To Darkness Fled (32 page)

"I'll teach you," Sir Caleb said.

Achan twisted around in his saddle, despite not being able to see. "No one taught me. Sir Gavin dropped me off in the forest with a knife and told me to walk back." Not that Achan had hunted fairly. He'd used his bloodvoice on the doe.

"We cannot use your training as a guide," Sir Caleb said. "Sir Gavin was...out of his element."

"How will I hunt what I cannot see?" Sparrow asked.

Sir Caleb hummed. "Setting a snare might work best."

Achan closed his eyes, seizing the moment to look in on Gren now that Sparrow had distracted Sir Caleb from his lectures on propriety. He found her walking in a forest--a field. Her gaze traveled over deep, green vines, past a cluster of tiny grapes, and back along the vines. A vineyard. The sun shone high in the pale blue sky. Achan's heart beat faster at the sight of such beauty and warmth on his skin, Gren's skin.

Gren laughed and the sound seemed to grab Achan's heart and squeeze.

It must have died.
Gren glanced at the young man walking beside her. Bran Rennan. Achan would recognize that sunburned face anywhere. Bran stood only slightly taller than Gren. He had sandy brown hair and a wide smile, which he flashed at Gren, seeming pleased to have made her laugh.

On the contrary, madam. My Averella is quite the experimentalist. She rarely fails altogether. The duchess harvested her hybrid vines last season and had a special bottle of wine made for our wedding day.

That's so romantic. How long has she been gone?

It's been nearly nine months since last I saw her. We took a walk here in the vineyard, then I left Zerah Rock with Sir Rigil. When I returned, her mother told me she'd gone into hiding.

And you don't know where?

Only that she's safe. Prince Oren has assured me of that much.

Gren ran her fingers through the leaves on the vines as they walked along.
I wonder if Achan's safe.

We saw him off in Mahanaim
.

Gren's heart leapt and she searched Bran's eyes for any sign of bad tidings.
How was he?

Shocked, I fear. We swore fealty to him, Sir Rigil and
I.
Prince Oren did as well.

I wish I could've been there.
Gren's chest tightened and her eyes stung.
I can't believe it's true. I mean, I
can
believe. I do. Achan's such a special person. I'm outraged at what they stole from him. You can't imagine the cruelty he suffered. Even as a stray he didn't deserve it, though he was a bit outspoken for a slave. That courage probably came from his royal blood.
Achan's smiling face popped into Gren's mind, which almost made Achan disconnect. How strange to think fondly of his own appearance.
The whole thing's a long tale. I keep waiting for the story to end, so life can go back to normal but...

Gren clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Tears squeezed past her eyelids, out of her control, and streamed down her cheeks. Achan wiped the tears off his own cheeks and tried to separate himself from her grief. Gren's chest heaved with sobs and she tried to suck in shallow breaths so she wouldn't look pathetic in front of this squire.

Bran gripped her elbow and pivoted to stand before her.
Madam, please. I--

Stop calling me madam!
Gren jerked away.
I'm no one's wife.

Oh. I...
Bran's throat bobbed. He opened his mouth, stammered, lowered his eyes.
I--Forgive me.
Please...please don't cry, Mad--Miss...Hoff.

Fire seared through Gren. She pushed Bran into the vines. One fell from the trellis onto his head.
I'm
not
a Hoff!
She stormed away, walking as fast as she could.

Achan squeezed his reins. How could Master Rennan misunderstand her feelings? And how could she have treated the handsome squire in such a fashion?

Achan blinked. Handsome squire? This connection grew more binding, confusing, awkward, but Achan held on.

Something wet and rank slapped against Gren's face, drawing Achan deep into her mind again. She screamed and shook her head. The moist mixture fell from her face and plopped to the ground. She hopped back to keep it from getting on her shoes.

Cow dung.

Achan's chest heaved with horror and fury. He breathed in and out with Gren through her mouth, trying not to smell it. Warbled sounds met her ears. Voices. Laughter. Yelling.

Master Rennan stood to Gren's left, before a narrow path shooting between two rows of vines.

I say, explain yourselves this instant!

Two boys, barely of age, stood well into the path, doubled over in laughter.

The taller of the two, skinny with black hair, straightened.
We made your trollop a pie, Rennan. Now she smells as low as she stoops.

Master Rennan propped his hands on his hips.
Barbarism! You will show a lady respect.

She's no lady,
the boy said.
I heard she's the prince's mistress.

The other boy guffawed.
And now she's yours.

Master Rennan growled and took off down the path after the boys. Achan urged him on. The miscreants deserved every pounding Bran gave them.

Gren took a shaky breath, then let loose another long cry. She was a widow! Not a trollop or anyone's mistress. Rumor of her baby had spread. Most of Carmine believed she was Master Rennan's lover, that he had brought her here to provide for the baby, explain to Lady Averella, and beg forgiveness. This wretched falsehood made Gren despised, for the people of Carmine felt Master Rennan belonged with Lady Averella.

Sounds of a struggle rose out of the vineyard where Master Rennan had chased the boys. How unfair that he had to put up with Gren's problems. He was too kind for such an assignment.

A shadow shifted to Gren's right. A rawboned man crept through the vines, his legs and arms moving slowly, like the spider crabs she'd seen when Father had taken her to the sea.

Achan didn't like the gleam in the man's eyes.
Run, Grenny.

Gren tilted her head and gasped.
Achan?

Run!

Gren spun around to face a fourth man who'd been standing behind her. He was a boar, bulky and tall with arms like clubs.

He stared down through heavy-lidded eyes.
You'll come with Mak and me, little morsel.
He seemed to growl each word.

Queasiness flashed in Gren's stomach.
I will not!
She pivoted and stalked into the vines on her left, down the path Master Rennan had taken. One row to her right, she glimpsed Mak, the spider crab, creeping parallel through the vines.

Gren, please run,
Achan said.
Find Bran.

Gren started to jog. A hand snagged the ties of her apron and jerked her back. She twirled around and pushed the big man's bull-like chest, fire engulfing her limbs.
Let go of me.

The man swung a fist. Gren screamed, ducked, and tore after Bran. Mak leaped in her path. She darted left, thrusting her body through the vines, and let her legs take over her swirling mind. Achan urged her on, his own heart pounding with the horror of Gren's reality.

Gren sprinted, darting from path to path toward the hedge wall that grew around the perimeter of the vineyard. Exits cut through hedge wall every so often. She had to find one. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed no one. She slowed to a stop, gulping in deep breaths, and listened. Leaves rustled. Had the noise come from behind her or...

Cetheria, great goddess of protection, shield me from those scoundrels. I beg you keep me safe. Lead me to the exit.

No, Gren,
Achan said.
Call on Arman.

Arman?

Mak stepped out of the vines and stood, legs apart, hands on his hips.

Gren wheeled around and plowed into the big man's chest again. Achan fumed. How could a man so huge sneak up on anyone?

Gren edged back, but this time the big man lunged forward and grabbed her wrists. With all the power her lungs contained, she screamed.
Bran! Help. Two--

The man struck her and she crumpled to the ground, head ringing, throbbing. Her vision blurred, cloudy and strange. She couldn't concentrate. She must get up, right? A vague urgency nagged at the back of her mind.

Aye, Gren. Get up!
Achan heard her groan but could no longer see. Her body scraped over leaves and dirt, her shoulders ached. Vines, leaves, and twigs slapped at her feet.

She stinks!
the big man said.

The boys threw cow dung at her, Chod
. Mak's voice, nasal and high-pitched grated on Achan's nerves.

Next time I'll pay them less if they can't hit the right target.

Gren! Grendolyn Fenny, wake up.
What could Achan do, trapped in her mind? He concentrated on Mak's jarring voice and suddenly found himself in the young man's mind as he leered at Gren's limp body. Achan wanted to kill this man for the thoughts in his head.

Chod dropped Gren's feet and smiled at Mak with rotting teeth.

Achan attacked through Mak. He punched Chod twice, only seeming to hurt Mak's hand. Fire shot through Achan's.

Chod stared at Mak, sluggish eyes sad.
What's that for?

Achan ripped down a trellis and broke the narrow board over his knee. He lunged, poking Chod in the chest. Chod snagged it away. Achan charged, but Mak's size was no match for Chod, who knocked Mak flying with one punch.

Achan's mind floated into the air, drifting, detached from any other. He looked down on the scene from above. Gren, Chod, and Mak in the center of the vineyard. A dozen rows away, Bran searched.

Achan blinked and found himself inside Bran's head. The squire was filled with a fury and fear that matched Achan's. Aye, Achan much preferred Bran's thoughts.

Achan concentrated in Gren's direction.
She's that way.

Thank you, Arman!
Bran took off, sprinting, ducking under trellises, dodging low vines, cutting across paths.

A scream tore through the air, and Bran poured on the speed, heart beating as though it might erupt.

You passed them!
Achan concentrated harder on the location.
Go back two rows and turn left.

Bran obeyed and found Gren and Chod rolling on the ground. Gren clawed at the big man's bloodied face. He tried to hold her down, but Gren kneed him and wriggled free.

Bran drew his sword, steel scraping over wood. Chod froze.

Pulse thudding in his ears, Bran's hands trembled, making his blade quiver.
Get up!

Chod stared, heavy eyes sizing up his opponent.

I could kill you or let you rot the rest of your days in the dungeon. Decide now!

Chod pulled one knee up and pushed himself to--

Icy water doused Achan's head. He jerked and gasped. He lay on cold ground on a dark night. Shadowed men stood above him. How had he gotten here? Was this Chod's reality? In the dungeon?

"Achan, for Lightness sake, lad, speak to us!"

Achan pushed himself to one elbow. "Sir Gavin?"

The sound of a long sniff and sigh met his ears. "Welcome back, lad."

Achan clutched the frosty grass beneath him and shivered. "Gren." Bran had arrived in time. He relaxed but his throat tightened, his eyes flooded. He blinked rapidly, not in the mood for his emotions to best him. "I looked in on Gren." He panted, sniffed away his agitation. "All is well now."

"Tell us," Sir Caleb said.

So Achan did.

Inko groaned. "This is going to be the end of him. You're all knowing that, right? If he's not being taught the proper way to use his gift, we'll be losing him."