By Darkness Hid (6 page)

Poril sputtered. “Well—what do yeh mean, my good sir knight?”

“I mean,
my good cook
, I’m in need of an assistant today, and I’m taking yours. Let’s go, lad!”

Achan took one step forward, then stopped to keep the tonic down.

“Poril has much to prepare for tomorrow, he does. Prince Gidon’s coming-of-age celebration. Over two hundred are expected. Could my good knight not find another assistant?”

“Could
you
not?”

Achan looked from Poril to Sir Gavin and back to Poril, unsure of which master to obey.

Finally Poril decided for him. “Yeh heard the good knight, boy. Be quick about it.”

Achan started for the spice baskets to get mentha leaves, but Poril yelled, “Now! And Poril had better not hear any complaints from the good knight, or Poril will punish yeh good.”

Achan scrambled around the table and out the door, his stomach churning. The morning air was cool but warmer than previous days. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue.

Sir Gavin paused for Achan to catch up, then set off in the direction of the stables. “Does he punish you often?”

Achan shrugged and fought the queasiness in his gut. “I don’t know. Once, sometimes twice a week.”

Sir Gavin halted. He went red again. Veins pulsed in his forehead and neck. He took a long breath through his nose and blew it out in a whistle. Without a word, he resumed walking toward the stables.

Achan scurried to keep up. The outer bailey was crowded after breakfast, but even more so with the coming-of-age celebration. Sir Gavin stopped behind a crowd.

“Make way!” someone yelled.

The people jerked back. Achan backpedaled to keep from falling down. The sharp movement roiled his still-queasy stomach. He should have insisted on grabbing mentha leaves before leaving the kitchens. He wheeled around and heaved his breakfast at the backside of the armory. The nearness of the chimney’s bricks heated the right side of his face.

Sir Gavin’s voice came from above. “Are you all right?”

Achan cleared his throat and spat. “I usually chew some mentha to settle my stomach. The tonic doesn’t like to stay down.”

“Then I’m sorry I kept you from it. But be glad the poison is out for the day. Your head will be clearer without it.”

Achan wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood. “You’re certain the tonic is poison?”

“Aye. It won’t harm you, but you shouldn’t be taking it. I’ll speak to Lord Nathak about it the first chance I get.”

Achan nodded, though he wanted to know what the point of poison was if not to kill or make ill. Why poison a stray? Achan was nobody to anyone.

A chorus of gasps turned his head back to the crowd. Achan was tall for his age and could see easily from his position. A procession of black horses shrouded in green silk with silver trim passed by. The banners their riders held displayed a goat’s head. Achan smiled, thinking of Dilly and Peg.

The men also wore green. Their skin was olive-toned, and they all had hair as black as their horses’ coats. They steered their mounts into the inner bailey. A litter mounted onto four horses, two in front and two in back, jerked past. It was larger than the litter Prince Gidon rode around in, and just as ornate, though the wood was dark and polished rather than painted.

“Who are they?” Achan asked.

“Jaelport,” Sir Gavin said.

A shiver ran up Achan’s arms. Jaelport was a city in Darkness.

When the procession had passed and the crowd dispersed, Sir Gavin continued toward the stables.

They found Noam waiting with two saddled horses: a noble chestnut courser the color of Gren’s hair and a grey and white speckled rouncy. The courser was lean and sleek. The rouncy was round and bulky, though smaller in stature.

Noam’s small, brown eyes darted over Achan and Sir Gavin, and he smiled.

“Achan,” Sir Gavin said, stroking the nose of the rouncy, “this is Etti. She’s my pack horse but will be a good one for you to learn on. Take her reins and lead her into the field.”

Achan swallowed hard, bubbling with excitement, and took the reins. Not only did he have the day off from his chores and all the preparations for the celebration, but he was going to learn to ride. He glanced at Noam and grinned before guiding Etti out of the stables.

Achan led Etti across the courtyard, feeling like a real squire. He jutted his chin at the guards on the wall and passed through the main gate, his new boots tapping on the drawbridge with Etti’s hooves.

He stopped beside the moat and stared across the grassy field at the allown tree, feeling as though the tree were witnessing his life change. Etti began eating fresh spring grass at the side of the moat. Achan stroked her neck as she munched and waited while Sir Gavin led the chestnut courser over the drawbridge.

“This is Scippa,” Sir Gavin said when he’d stopped his horse beside Achan. “He’s the fastest horse I’ve ever seen, except the festriers in Xulon.”

“He’s beautiful,” Achan said.

“That he is.” Sir Gavin nodded to Noam, who stood watching from the drawbridge. “You ever see a festrier, Achan?”

“No, sir.” Achan had heard of the horses that measured as high as twenty-four hands. He believed in them about as much as he believed in the giants who were said to ride them.

“Someday you will.” Sir Gavin took Scippa’s reins in his left hand and held them up. “When you ride, always mount on the left side.” He reached up with his left hand still gripping the reins and fisted Scippa’s mane. Then he put his left foot into the stirrup, his right hand on the top edge of the saddle, and jumped. He pulled himself up and swung his right leg over the horse’s back.

It looked easy enough. Thankfully, Etti was small. Achan tried to imitate what Sir Gavin had done and just about fell into the moat. On the second try, Achan barely managed to mount. He flushed to think how that must have looked to Noam. It was a good thing he hadn’t been trying to mount a horse the size of Scippa.

“Nicely done, lad! Let’s go to the field for a bit.” Sir Gavin led Scippa toward the wheat field where Achan had spent so many hours with the waster.

Etti followed for a few steps then stopped, her head dipping back to the grass. Then she walked after Scippa again, only to stop a few paces later for more grass. Achan still gripped Etti’s mane in his left hand, and he held tight. Her body rocked him from side to side when she moved. It was like being a giant, to sit atop a horse. He grinned, liking the height very much but wondering just how he was to control this animal.

He looked up to see Sir Gavin heading back to him. A cloud of dust rose to the north. Likely another procession headed to the prince’s celebration.

Sir Gavin steered Scippa close. “Hold the reins loose but tight enough to pull if you need to. She’s an easy one, so lifting the reins a bit to the right or left is all it takes to steer her. Turn your head the way you want to go as well. She can feel your body move and sense your intentions.”

Achan tried a few turns on the road in front of the castle’s entrance. Etti responded well to his guidance. It was an empowering feeling.

“That’s right,” Sir Gavin said. “Now, gently tap your heel into her side to make her walk.”

Achan did, and Etti took a few steps forward. Then she stopped for more grass. He squeezed again, a bit harder, and this time she took off at a lazy amble.

“That’s it! Always thank her for doing a good job and you’ll win her over.”

Achan patted her neck. “Thank you, Etti girl.”

Etti snorted and followed Scippa out to the wheat field.

Achan steered Etti in circles around the field, practicing commands and reining until the sun burned high in the sky.

Two more entourages entered Sitna manor as they rode. Both groups carried banners of blue and black. Their passing filled the air with dust so thick it seemed like fog. One procession looked like tribal hunters draped in animal skins. The other group was neat and clean, like a bunch of scribes.

“Let’s get away from all this dust, shall we?” Sir Gavin steered Scippa west, past the allown tree, and followed the road that ran alongside the gurgling SiderosRiver.

The horses’ hooves clomped a steady rhythm in the dust. Achan swayed from side to side, starting to feel an ache in his lower back and thighs. Flies buzzed around Etti’s mane, and she flicked at them with her ears. The wind was soft and warm today. Birds chirped from budding treetops.

Sir Gavin twisted to look back. “You see that ridge there?” He pointed to the western horizon where a bumpy darkness edged the skyline.

“Aye.”

“Those are the ChowmahMountains. We’ll go as far as the SiderosForest today.”

Achan grinned. He’d never gone so far from home—or even seen a forest, for that matter. Their journey continued, always with grassy fields on his right and the smooth river on his left. Achan couldn’t wait to see a change in the land.

Sir Gavin stopped under a small grove of poplar. They tied the horses to a tree and sat on the bank of the river for a lunch of apples, bread, and cheese. Sir Gavin removed a dagger from his right boot and gave a lesson in how to fight with it. Achan practiced some stabs on a sturdy tree, then they continued with their ride.

Achan could now make out the SiderosForest. Hundreds of trees stretched from north to south as far as he could see. And the forest continued west, sloping up the side of the mountains until snow took over. Achan had seen snow a few times. It came down occasionally in Sitna but rarely stuck for more than a day.

Why would anyone want to live in endless fields when there was a beautiful place like this they could come to instead? The trees were taller than any he’d ever seen. If not for Gren, Achan might’ve wished that Sir Gavin would never take him back to the manor.

As they neared the thick forest, Achan noticed the fog that edged the skyline. A queer chill washed over him. He saw that halfway up the peaks, the snow transformed into a shifting grey cloud that seemed to stretch the length of Er’Rets.

The Evenwall.

Achan tried to look beyond it, but he saw only the mist. Yet he knew Darkness was there. The cursed land beyond the Evenwall hadn’t seen the sun since King Axel and Queen Dara were murdered. The black shroud was said to be a result of the gods’ anger. Punishment for the murder of their king. Achan had heard of the Evenwall but had never seen it himself. It looked like a fierce storm cloud approaching.

Sir Gavin stopped Scippa just outside the forest. “Eerie, isn’t it?” He nodded toward the mountains.

“It’s a nightmare,” Achan whispered.

“Too true. Hear this, young Achan: never go into Darkness. Never even as far as the Evenwall mist. It calls to men. It lures them inside. A man can go crazy in the haze and never find his way out.”

Achan had no intention of ever going into Darkness or the mist that was supposedly the doorway to the eerie place. “Do people actually live over there?”

“Aye, plenty. Therion used to be a land as fair as Nahar. But it’s a different world since the death of the king. Thirteen years ago Darkness pushed all light from the western half of Er’Rets.” Scippa shifted nervously beneath Sir Gavin, as if he didn’t like the topic. “The lack of light is the lack of Arman,” Sir Gavin said. “And the lack of Arman is Darkness indeed.”

Achan considered this, not quite understanding what Sir Gavin meant. Arman was the father god. But Sir Gavin’s story confused him. Couldn’t a god go anywhere? How could darkness push a god away? Etti turned toward a tuft of grass, and Achan had to steer her back so he could see the forest.

“Some of the noble houses have endured despite the lack of light,” Sir Gavin said, “although it is said that madness brews there aplenty.”

Achan could only imagine what it would be like to never see the light of day, the sun, or even the moon and stars. How did people cope?

Sir Gavin turned Scippa in a half circle.

Achan twisted around. “Are we going back?”

“I am. You have a mission.”

“I do?”

“Aye. Climb down.”

Achan slid down Etti’s side. Sir Gavin pulled the dagger from his boot and handed it down, hilt first. Achan took the weapon and looked up at Sir Gavin.

“It’s tradition that every squire kill his first beast alone.”

Achan’s lips parted. He glanced into the forest, then up at the mountains, not wanting to go near the cursed mist.

“No need to go far. You’ll find plenty of deer and fox in this forest here.”

Deer and fox?

“That’s right,” Sir Gavin said, as if reading Achan’s mind. “Don’t come home without an animal. A bird doesn’t count, and I don’t recommend trying for a bear your first time out.”

Achan stood gaping as Sir Gavin grabbed Etti’s reins. Surely he couldn’t be serious?

“I’m very serious, lad. To kill an animal takes wit, strength, and courage. I believe you have all of these traits in great measure, but to be publicly declared a squire, you must prove it to others. This is, and always has been, the way. Arman be with you, lad.” At that, Sir Gavin yelled, “Hee-ya!” and Scippa and Etti took off at a gallop.

Achan stood watching the plume of dust that rose in their wake and stung his eyes. When the dust settled, Achan turned toward the trees.

“So much for my day off.”

The trees stood before him, a legion of wood soldiers standing guard in both directions as far as he could see, separating the peaceful plains of northeast Er’Rets from the mountains leading to Darkness. He recognized allown, poplar, and pine trees, though they seemed bigger than those he was used to. He hoped the forest wouldn’t mind sparing a small animal to help him on his way to freedom.

Yet as he faced the woods, a thrill coursed in his veins. Publicly declared a squire. Could it be true? Would a squire be worthy enough to speak with Gren’s father? Achan winced, doubting that even a Kingsguard knight made as much income as a merchant. Likely Riga would inherit the business from his father.

He sighed. How exactly did one catch a fox? Certainly not by chasing it. Should he find a place to crouch and wait for one to wander by? And wouldn’t a deer be able to smell him coming? Sir Gavin had never once spoken of hunting. Achan had no idea how to go about it. Why did Sir Gavin give him this task now? And why hadn’t he left him Etti?