From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [91]
She did not answer.
Sir Caleb and Matthias began dressing Achan in layers of padding and armor. Achan could hardly speak he was so overcome with having found Sparrow and not being able to help her. He had to force himself to spare a thought for the coming meeting.
Too soon he found himself atop Dove, riding out of camp, flanked by guardsmen carrying torches through the gloom. A hundred horsemen at his back were armed with bows.
They crested a small hill, and hundreds of torchlights came into view. Five horsemen stood abreast in the middle of a field. The men on each end held a torch. Far behind them, a wall of soldiers stood like a parapet, their torches reflecting off shiny black armor. Black knights. Many of which appeared to hold bows, arrows knocked.
Achan gripped Dove’s reins and straightened, coming back to his calling. Be with us, Arman. Give me Your strength. Your words.
Terms. He didn’t even know who approached. The Hadad? Lord Nathak. Or perhaps Lord Falkson of Barth?
As they narrowed the distance between them, Achan soon had his answer. Sir Kenton Garesh’s curtain of black hair was like no other, a sharp contrast to the white flag he held in one hand. And Esek Nathak, unless he was a ghost, sat alive and well on a black steed, both arms intact.
How could that be?
A chill rolled down Achan’s spine. He found it difficult to look anywhere but at Esek’s arms. He had cut one off, hadn’t he? The right arm. He had relived the moment again and again in his nightmares.
Your Highness? Sir Caleb spoke to his mind. Keep your wits about you.
But his arm.
Is likely a wooden one.
Achan’s posture relaxed. Of course. Esek would want to appear whole to his followers.
“Heir of Axel Hadar, we meet again as equals.”
Achan stiffened. Esek’s voice was the same, yet different. A thick undertone drew out every word a breath longer than need be. Dove shifted beneath Achan, swished his tail. Achan stroked the horse’s neck. I know boy, I feel it too.
Esek spoke again. “You have nothing to say?”
Sir Kenton and Esek wore marks on their foreheads. Three bars like those on the foreheads of the Eben giants who had attacked Achan outside Mirrorstone months ago.
“I say we are anything but equals, Esek,” Achan said, his words bolder than his courage. “When I left you last, you were not even whole. Now you bear the mark of madmen and carry a white flag. You surrender so soon?”
Esek lifted both hands, stretched them out toward Achan.
Sir Gavin drew his sword. “None of that, now.”
Esek chuckled. “I wield no magic in these hands, Sir Gavin. I am not a black knight.” He wiggled his fingers. “I merely wish to show your prince that I am indeed whole.”
Achan did not understand. “How?”
“One does not share secrets with the enemy, Your Highness.”
Why does he show me respect? Achan asked Sir Gavin. What’s his game?
I know not, Your Highness. Remain on guard.
“Your man carries the white flag, Esek. What do you want?” Achan asked.
Sir Caleb glared in Achan’s direction. Apparently this was not the proper way to negotiate terms. Well, hang the proper way. Achan wanted to get back to Sparrow. Her face came to his mind now, lifting his mood considerably.
“Why, I want peace, of course,” Esek said.
Achan huffed. “You want peace?”
“Who wants to rule a warring nation? Too much work.”
“You still plan to rule?” Achan’s voice came out flat.
“Of course.”
“And how do you plan to do that peaceably?”
“By giving you what you want. Have Lady Averella and her inheritance. Rule Carmine—rule all of Carm, if you wish. Call yourself a king. I no longer care. But leave Armonguard and the south to me.”
Achan shook his head. “You think that’s what I want?”
“What is it you want, then?”
“I want a cottage in the woods. Vrell Sparrow as my wife. No throne under my control. Perhaps some goats.”
Esek shifted on his horse. “Then you surrender?”
Achan’s dry laugh sounded loud in the surrounding silence. “Aye, that I did, but not to you. Arman is my master now. And He wants me to rule all Er’Rets. Not just