From Darkness Won Page 14

  Vrell veered left around a cottage and collided with a soldier, who clapped his arms around her like irons.

  “Let me go!” She kicked the unyielding oak of a man.

  “Not on yer life, missy.” He dragged Vrell back to the Corner. The music stopped. Everyone stood staring.

  Reggio strutted across the clearing, a nasty smirk upon his face. “Why, Lady Averella. What brings you to Sitna? Or do you go by Vrell Sparrow these days?” Reggio yelled “Vrell Sparrow,” as if he were hoping the minstrel might make a song of him catching the infamous lady-turned-stray.

  Vrell straightened her posture in the guard’s grip. “Good evening, Master Levy. I hear Sitna has the best blacksmith in Carm Duchy. I am in need of a new sword.”

  He snorted. “You expect me to believe you came to Sitna for a sword? There’s a price on your head, in case you were unaware. One my father will be pleased to accept.”

  “I hear your father has been demoted to Lord of Sitna Manor. My, how well evil men are rewarded. When I get my new sword, Master Levy, I shall test its sharpness on you.”

  Reggio’s cheeks pinked, but he chuckled as if she had made a joke. “You, my lady, are going to the dungeon. There will be no swords for you to wield there.”

  9

  The overwhelming smell of tobacco woke Achan. A lantern hung on a hook at the foot of his bed, blinding him to anything beyond the canopy. His stinging eyes led him to believe it was still night. But he had stayed up far too late the past few nights, seeking a way around Sparrow’s shields. Maybe it was nearly morning. Or perhaps a dream?

  He sensed excitement. Another lesson from the duchess?

  “Achan Cham,” a man said.

  Achan jolted and rolled over. With the lantern at his back, he could see better. Sir Gavin, Sir Eagan, Sir Caleb, and Shung stood in a line beside his bed, dressed for battle.

  Achan sat up so fast his head spun. “Another attack?”

  The men simply stared past him. Achan turned to see what they were looking at, but saw nothing strange but Matthias’s empty pallet. Where had the lad gone?

  Sir Gavin’s voice pulled Achan’s gaze back to the men. “As a male Er’Retian past sixteen years, you are a man. You received no manhood ceremony to commemorate such a momentous occasion. Tonight we will rectify that.”

  Achan’s head tingled. Manhood ceremony?

  Sir Gavin peered down upon Achan. “Do you wish to become a man?”

  Achan looked from face to face, the night air cool inside his gaping mouth. All four men now fixed their gazes on him. He felt underdressed—he was wearing only his trousers. The beating in his chest drew his eyes back to Sir Gavin’s. “Aye, sir.”

  “Stand then, Achan Cham.”

  Achan crawled out of bed and stood, facing the knights.

  “As to your achievements,” Sir Gavin said, “these past months I watched you train harder and withstand more pressure than any man of any age.”

  Then Sir Eagan spoke, “I witnessed your mercy as you pardoned prisoners. Your tenacity as you sought out a traitor.”

  “You felled Esek.” Shung stomped one foot on the floor. “Killed the great cham bear.” Another stomp.

  “You surrendered to Arman,” Sir Caleb said, “accepted Câan’s sacrifice and plan for your life. I say you are a man.”

  Achan’s chest tightened.

  “As to your character,” Sir Gavin said. “You are smart, the quickest study I’ve ever seen. And I find your perseverance under trial inspiring.”

  “You are good-natured and moral,” Sir Caleb said.

  “Brave and honorable.” Shung stomped again.

  “You have a high regard for all people, no matter their social status, circumstance, or past errors,” Sir Eagan said. “I say you are a man.”

  “As to our advice for this journey through manhood,” Sir Gavin said. “Always be teachable, willing to learn.”

  “Remember that every man is a slave to something,” Sir Eagan said. “Let no one or thing master you but Arman.”

  “Set goals and boundaries to protect yourself. Resist the hosts of temptations that await you,” Sir Caleb said.

  “Always carry weapon.” Shung banged a fist on his chest. “And Shung says the little cham is a man.”

  Achan trembled through a silent laugh.

  Sir Gavin lifted a diamond-shaped shield off Sir Eagan’s back and hoisted it before Achan as if he were going to use it. “We had this made for you.”

  Blood tingled to Achan’s fingertips as he inspected the shield. Slightly pointed at the top, the bottom edges tapered like a stemless arrowhead. The wood was covered in dark brown leather edged with a band of thick gold plating. Two more strips of gold crossed over one another, dividing the shield into four sections. A gold symbol was mounted in each section: a castle, a tree, a crown, and a cham. A two-headed hawk covered where the strips crossed in the center.

  “It’s identical to the shield your father carried in battle but for one difference,” Sir Gavin said. “We put a cham bear on this shield in honor of the life that made you who you are. A cham stands for ferocity and protection. Its presence on your shield should remind you always to be courageous.”

  “The crown stands for authority,” Sir Caleb said. “You are responsible for leading Er’Rets.”

  “Fortress means stability,” Shung said. “Unshakable.”

  “The tree will remind you to remember your creator,” Sir Eagan said. “Always be reverent.”

  “The two-headed hawk is the symbol of the Hadar name,” Sir Gavin said. “The Hadars, the line of kings, are men of action, not idleness. While one head looks to the kingdom, the other looks to Arman, always on guard, always vigilant. As you walk through life, be courageous, responsible, steadfast, reverent, and vigilant. No longer will we treat you like a boy. We say you are a man.” He passed the shield to Achan.

  Achan took the weight into his arms with a fierce pride.

  “Because of my continual concern for your safety, you feel I don’t respect you,” Sir Caleb said. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m proud of who you are and what you’ve accomplished. From this day forward I shall strive to respect your wishes, whether I agree or not.”

  The words lightened Achan, lifting a yoke he hadn’t realized hung so heavily over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “If ever you have need, come to any of us,” Sir Gavin said. “For we have lived many years.”

  “Some of us more than others, Gavin,” Sir Eagan said.

  Achan laughed and examined his shield, enthralled by its beauty, its significance, its weight—the amount of gold. “How was my father’s shield different?”

  “King Axel’s shield bore a stag instead of a cham,” Sir Gavin said, “for the stag and the name Axel stand for peace. But your shield, had your father given it to you as Gidon, would have born a lion, which represents a warrior.”

  Achan’s chest swelled. His father had named him warrior. “What now? Is that the end?”

  Sir Gavin clapped him on the back. “By no means. Now you must hear three old men—and one young one—tell of our greatest triumphs and follies.”

  Sir Eagan and Shung dragged chairs over from the wall and sat in a half circle around the side of Achan’s bed.

  “Do not judge us too harshly, Your Highness,” Sir Eagan said, sitting on his chair, “for some of us have had much greater and many more follies than we have had triumphs.”

  “First,” Sir Gavin said, digging something out of his pants pocket, “take this. Since your father cannot be here.”

  Achan accepted a smooth gold coin. He had never held money in his life. He examined the coin and saw the two headed hawk on one side. He flipped it and gasped, for what looked like his own profile was molded onto the other side.

  “You and your father look a lot alike, but someday your own profile will mark Er’Retian coins,” Sir Gavin said.

  Achan laughed. “I never even thought of such a thing as my face on a coi
n.”

  “Yes, well, now that King Axel has arrived,” Sir Caleb said with a glance at the coin, “we can get on with it.”

  Each man took a turn sharing personal stories about their own journeys to manhood. Sir Gavin’s proudest moment had been when King Paxton knighted him and appointed him Prince Axel’s Shield. His biggest failure had been King Axel and Queen Dara’s deaths and losing Achan.

  Sir Eagan’s intense blue eyes focused on Achan. “I have had many failures, Your Highness. Too many to confess in one night. Some I have already shared with you. The differences with my father. Losing King Axel on my watch.” Pain flashed across his face. “But none has plagued me as much as dallying with a young woman days before her wedding.”

  Stunned, Achan averted his eyes to the floor. Sir Eagan didn’t seem capable of something so low.

  “I don’t doubt the young woman was partially to blame,” Sir Gavin said.

  Sir Eagan growled like an irritated cat. “Whether or not she was willing, it is a man’s duty to protect a lady’s honor. In that I failed. And though I regret my actions, I would not change them if I were able to live through it again.”

  This admission caused Achan to look up. “Why?”

  Sir Eagan’s expression lightened. “My failures, no matter how painful, brought wisdom. And Arman, by his infinite grace and mercy, bestowed blessings through my failures that, over time, made the pain bearable.”

  Sir Eagan shifted on his chair, looking as if there were more to confess, but he switched topics altogether. “Now, my best moment, I’m afraid, has yet to be lived. Should I survive the coming war, I shall waste no time making amends with those I have wronged. Forgiveness and reconciliation will be, I have no doubt, the greatest moments of my life.”

  “Why wait?” Achan asked. “Can’t you do it now?”

  “Why, indeed? It is always best to wait on Arman’s timing. The battle for Er’Rets must come first. I pray Arman will give me opportunity to reconcile after the war.”

  Then it was Shung’s turn.

  Of all the men, Shung’s voice was the lowest. “Each year Shung’s village sent one young man to Berland for tournament. Winner would become squire. During tournament, Shung fought too hard. Wanted to impress Father. Shung’s friend Arluk fell.”

  Even the knights were staring at Shung, surprise evident on each face. Achan recalled how horrified he’d been to kill his first deer, and later, the Poroo soldiers. He could not imagine having killed a friend. “How old were you?”

  “One and ten.”

  So young to deal with such guilt. “Were you arrested?”

  Shung snorted. “Not in Therion Duchy. Not for that. Shung tried to withdraw from tournament, but Arluk’s father made Shung swear to become great warrior. To bring honor to Arluk’s death. When Shung became Sir Koyukuk’s squire…” He banged a fist on his chest. “Proudest moment. Until Shung became Shield to future king and was knighted.” He nodded to Achan and banged his chest again.

  “You are a great warrior, Shung,” Achan said. “You have brought honor to your friend’s life.”

  Shung glanced to Sir Caleb. “The lion’s turn.”

  “Very well.” Sir Caleb released a shaky sigh. “My brother’s wife, Ambrosia, liked to walk in the forest and often went alone, despite Baruch’s pleas that she take care. As the head of her guard, he often sent me to fetch her when she was gone too long. Until the day I found her half dead. Poroo had attacked, beaten her to within an inch of death. To this day she cannot speak properly, and she limps…” Sir Caleb’s eyes were glassy and wet, staring into the past. “I was responsible for Ambrosia’s safety. I was to blame. It is still the most horrible experience of my life.”

  A deep breath seemed to bring him back to the present. “When I saw Esper’s husband strike her that day in the marketplace in Armonguard, I lost all sense. I saw a chance to save a woman from Ambrosia’s fate and took it. Some believe I stole a married woman from her husband, but I never believed Esper was that man’s wife. Not of her own will. She was his prisoner. His slave. His pell.”

  No wonder Sir Caleb obsessed over safety. “Do you miss your wife?” Achan asked.

  “Very much. When Sir Gavin called me to Mahanaim to free you from the dungeon, I did not know I would be gone so long. May Esper forgive me. I do send letters, but it is not the same as my return.”

  “May you forgive me as well,” Achan said. “It never occurred to me you might rather go home than be one of my advisors.”

  “I am called to serve my king. Esper knows that. Besides, none of us have any sort of life to return to until your rule is settled.”

  Achan sat in awe of the men around him. Each one had shared so freely, encouraged him in ways he had never expected. It made him wonder what bits of wisdom King Axel might have shared had he been present. Achan took the coin in his hand and studied it. These men, as honorable and good as Achan knew them to be, had all struggled in some way. Surely his father had, as well.

  Achan only wished he knew if the mysterious Hadad had killed his parents. Every time he heard his family name “Hadar” he thought of that faceless man from the pit in Barth. He frowned, brushing the troubling thought aside. This was a celebration. He had been a man for months, but tonight, for the first time, he truly felt like one.

  When Achan awoke the next morning, he found Matthias standing beside his bed. Achan yawned long and hard. “Good morning, Matthias.”

  “You’ve lots of wounds, sir.”

  Achan glanced down to see that he had, as usual, kicked off his blankets in his sleep. He rolled his sore shoulder in an attempt at a stretch and yawned again. When he looked back to Matthias, the boy held his hands before his face, knuckles facing Achan, fingertips blackened with soot.

  “I’ve wounds too, sir.”

  Upon closer inspection, it was clear that Matthias’s fingertips were not covered in soot, but black for another reason. “What happened?”

  “I was hunting with Father but got lost. A long while passed ’fore he found me. I was frozen.”

  Achan recalled Master Ricks’s words when he’d offered the boy to Achan back in Tsaftown. He’s a good boy, but took a bad frost to his hands. He can use them fine, just not for the detail of tying knots.

  Frostbitten fingertips? “Is it painful?”

  “No, sir. Can’t feel a thing.”

  “And here I thought you’d been playing in the fireplace.”

  Matthias giggled. “I know better than that.”

  The boy’s contagious laugh made Achan chuckle until Matthias pointed a blackened finger at Achan’s chest.

  “What happened to you, sir?”

  Achan glanced down. “Oh, a host of things.”

  Matthias’s expression fell. Everyone who had seen Achan’s scars was always fascinated—or horrified. Why would little Matthias be any different?

  “Pick one,” Achan said, “and I shall tell you the tale.”

  Matthias’s eyebrows lifted into a pale arc, and his eyes flickered over Achan’s chest. He pointed to the still purpled scars on Achan’s right side and shoulder.

  “Good choice. Those are bite marks,” Achan said in as eerie a voice as he could muster. “A cham tried to eat me.”

  Matthias’s eyes widened and flicked to Achan’s neck. “Is that why you wear that?”

  Achan fingered the claw. “It is.”

  “You killed it?” These words were whispered with awe bordering on disbelief.

  “With a knife to its throat.” Achan couldn’t help but enjoy the look of admiration on the boy’s face.

  “That’s why Sir Shung calls you Little Cham?”

  “No. He calls me that because Cham is my surname. Was.” Achan frowned. His answer had clearly confused the boy. Matthias may as well know the full tale if he’d be working with Achan for the rest of his days.

  “I grew up as a stray in Sitna Manor,” Achan said. “Worked in the kitchens as the cook’s boy. I milked the goats, got firewood, and kept
the hearths hot. One day Sir Gavin offered to train me as a squire. It’s against the law for a stray to serve in the Kingsguard, so I trained in secret. But Lord Nathak found out and banished Sir Gavin. I’d learned enough of the sword by then that Lord Nathak made me one of Prince Gidon’s squires.”

  Matthias’s brow crinkled. “But you’re Prince Gidon, sir.”

  Achan smirked. “Aye, but only Lord Nathak knew that. And with Sir Gavin gone, I had no choice but to travel with the fake prince to Mahanaim. On the way, Poroo attacked.”

  “I’ve never seen a Poroo, sir.”

  “Well, they’re ugly to look at, but not the best warriors. Still, they struck me down.” Achan touched a white knot on his shoulder, one of the scars from the Poroo arrows. “I woke in the Mahanaim dungeons. Lord Nathak had accused me of trying to kill the prince, but of course I’d been protecting him. A week later, Sir Caleb broke me out of prison. He and Sir Gavin dressed me in a lot of finery, took me to Council, and revealed the truth.”

  Matthias was mesmerized. “What truth, sir?”

  “That I was the Prince Gidon. That when I was just a babe, Lord Nathak switched me and his son, Esek, branded me a stray, and gave me to his cook to raise.” Achan turned to show Matthias the mark of a stray, an “S” still branded onto the back of his shoulder. “So, though my real name is Gidon Hadar, I’ve always been known as Achan, and those closest to me call me such.”

  Matthias’s lips turned into a grin. “Father says ‘achan’ when he’s angry.”

  “Does he?” Achan meant “trouble” in the ancient language. It had humiliated him for years, but now he rather liked it. For Achan planned to cause trouble for any foe who stood in Arman’s way. “It’s never been the kindest of names, but it’s mine.” Achan’s stomach rumbled. “You hungry?”

  Matthias nodded.

  “Fetch us some breakfast, then. But first we must wake the doorstop. I’d have you pounce on him, but he’s a mean one in the mornings and might wring your neck.”

  Matthais’s eyes went wide as he regarded the lump of furs on the pallet by the door.