From Darkness Won Part 10

One blink.

"Very well." Vrell took a bundle of linen from Gren and tore it in two. She rolled half into a wad and handed it to Gren. "Put pressure on his chest."

"Me?"

"Now, please."

Gren crouched beside Vrell, her black skirt puffing around her. Arms shaking, she set the linen on the man's chest and pressed down with her fingertips.

"Harder."

Gren's hands shifted a bit. Vrell pushed her hand over Gren's to show how much pressure.

The man groaned. His body stiffened.

"Shh. You are very brave." Vrell laid her linen over his neck and pressed down lightly, concerned about his breathing. "Are you thirsty?"

The man's face turned pink. One blink.

"Good. We'll get you a drink in a moment."

The man sucked in short gasps. Vrell lifted the linen from his neck, uncertain where to press to stop the bleeding and not cut off his air. She pressed down with two fingers where the blood seemed to pool. Better.

She reached for her water jug with her free hand, wedged it between her knees, and pulled out the stopper. "Here is a drink." She tipped the jug over the man's lips. His chin quivered as he lapped the water. "Tell me, sir, do you know Arman, the One G.o.d?"

The man blinked once.

Joyous heart. Arman would save his soul, then, if she failed to save his body. "I would like to ask Him to ease your pain. Would that be acceptable?"

The man gurgled an intelligible response. His eyebrows sank, and he blinked.

Vrell took hold of his hand and closed her eyes. He squeezed until her fingers pinched. "Arman, You are aware of this man's pain. We ask for Your healing touch on his body. We know You are able to mend these wounds." The man's grip relaxed. Vrell forced her voice to remain even, though tears tightened her throat. "We also know You will choose what is best. Bring this man comfort and strength. Be glorified in his life. May it be so."

Vrell opened her eyes. The man's eyes remained closed. He had stopped trembling. She laid his hand over his chest and set hers on top of Gren's.

"Thank you, Gren. That will do."

Gren pulled her hands away. "Is he dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

Gren sucked in a short breath. "I knew him. Not his name. But up until a few weeks ago, he served night duty between the great hall and the kitchens."

"And he joined the Kingsguard?"

"Captain Loam a.s.signed him to personal guard. The man was mighty proud. I heard him bragging to his chums."

"A personal guard to whom?"

"Lady Gypsum."

Vrell met Gren's gaze, no doubt exchanging the same curiosity, but neither willing to voice it aloud. Why would one of Gypsum's guards be in the vineyard at such an hour?

Vrell called to Anillo. Lady Averella Amal.

Yes, my lady?

I am in the southwestern vineyards helping the wounded. I found a man who I believe is one of Gypsum's guardsmen. He is dead. Would you send someone for his body, please? He lies in the tenth row thereabouts.

Right away, my lady. Should I inform your mother of your location?

If you must. Vrell stood and gathered her satchel and water jug. But why might Gypsum's guard be out here?

It would be best if you returned to the castle.

Fire sparked in Vrell's chest and spread quickly through her limbs. Tell me now, Anillo.

Very well. Lady Gypsum was abducted from the courtyard. Do not fret! She is back in the castle, well and safe. Her abductors took her through the vineyards. She will be saddened to hear that Arne did not survive.

Vrell glanced down at the soldier named Arne. He gave his life to save my sister.

He tried, my lady. Lady Gypsum says that Arne was struck down long before she escaped. My lady, if you don't mind looking... The prince helped Lady Gypsum into the southwestern tunnel. Yet he did not follow her and is no longer responding to the d.u.c.h.ess's calls.

The prince? Achan had been here? Was he here still? She couldn't let him see her. And yet... Her eyes strayed to Arne's ruined body.

Please, Arman. Let him be well.

Vrell crouched and scanned the ground under the vines. She counted three bodies at various distances away. I will find him, Anillo. Vrell bounced back up and ran to the road. The tunnel's entrance was not far. "Come, Gren. There are more wounded."

Vrell's heart pounded as she jogged down the road, scanning each row for the next body or the sc.r.a.p of fabric that marked the trapdoor to the secret tunnel. She spotted a downed man and ran to him. It was not Achan, however, but an enemy soldier-dead from an amputated leg.

Vrell backpedaled, b.u.mped into Gren, and darted past.

Gren cried out, "He's dead too?"

Vrell turned back and gripped Gren's shoulders. "Gren, please. I am sorry that you are seeing this, but we must keep moving. Besides, he was one of the enemy."

She sniffled. "How can you tell?"

"He is wearing a New Kingsguard cape. Black. Not red." Vrell jogged to the road and waved Gren to follow.

Gren stumbled after her, sobbing. "I didn't even notice his cloak. I'm just so sad for that other soldier. He was so excited to be a guardsman. I don't even know his name."

"Arne." Vrell gripped Gren's hand, tugged her along.

Gren panted. "How do you know?"

"Anillo told me. I bloodvoiced him to ask him to send someone for the body."

"Oh."

Down the next row, a leg stuck out from under a clump of vines. "Wait, Gren. Here is another." Vrell ducked under a broken trellis and made her way down the row. The vines on her left were a mess. Some had come loose from the trellis and hung like fallen garland. Some were broken and hung like the branches of a weeping willow.

The man lay on his back, arms spread out as if he could fly. His body appeared to have knocked down the trellis, for pieces of wood and bunches of red grapes lay on the ground around him. His head, covered in a gilded helm, was turned away. The helm was twisted slightly and dented with the star-like imprint of a mace.

Vrell stopped, dumbstruck by the etching on the glided breastplate that had once belonged to Moul Rog the Great.

Achan!

6.

Vrell knelt at Achan's side and studied the dent in his helm. Only one spike had pierced the steel. A thin trail of blood trickled through it. There did not appear to be an abundance of blood on the gra.s.s.

She carefully pulled off the helm. Some of Achan's black hair frizzed, wanting to stay with the wool cushioning of the helm. The rest was stuck to his temple with blood. An odd tingle started in her belly and ran up to her head. She could almost hear the sound of his voice saying, "We need you as much as you need us. If not for you, who would patch us up when we're half dead?"

Indeed. She parted his hair with her fingers, looking for the wound near the large lump on his head. Only a small hole had been pierced in the flesh, just above his ear. The spike could not have gone too deeply.

She cupped his cheek and turned his head. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring his face. She leaned over him, placing her cheek in front of his lips.

She could not feel his breath. She needed to get his armor off so she could see his chest. "Gren, help me!"

Footsteps crunched over leaves, and Gren knelt on Achan's other side. "Oh! 'Tis Achan." Gren grabbed Achan's shoulders and shook him. "Achan! Wake up!"

Vrell seized Gren's wrists and squeezed. "Stop! You could make him worse shaking him like that. Help me untie the points on his breastplate. We must get it off."

Gren let go. Vrell began to untie the points on Achan's right side. Gren stared for a moment, then mirrored her movements.

When Vrell finished, she looked to Gren. "Almost done?"

"No! I-I can't do this. My hands are shaking."

Vrell stood and stepped over Achan to his other side. She crouched beside Gren and loosened the points. As she untied the last one, the waist of the backplate fell to the gra.s.s. Vrell reached across and grabbed both sides. Gren leaned over her shoulder.

"Back up, please, Gren. I need some room."

Gren's presence vanished, and Vrell lifted. The breastplate was heavier than she expected. She gripped it tightly and pa.s.sed it to Gren.

Achan's eyes shot open and he sucked in a loud, croaking breath that morphed into a yell. He panted and yelled again, sucking short breaths between his teeth. "What!" He gasped. "My head. Ahh!"

Vrell leaned over him, catching his gaze, thrilled to see him awake. "Shh. All will be well."

Achan's eyebrows sunk low over his eyes. "Sparrow? Sparrow, are you here?" He gripped her arm. "Am I dream..." His eyes fell closed then flashed open again. He lifted his head and groaned, his gaze roaming over her. "A dress, Sparrow? You look lovely. I miss you."

Vrell's cheeks flamed. "Shh. Be still."

His eyes widened as his gaze flitted over her. "You're... bleeding?" His head thumped to the gra.s.s. Unconscious.

Vrell sighed, pushing back her emotions. Dried blood was smeared on her skirt, hands, and sleeves. Probably her face as well. She sent a knock to Sir Caleb. Vrell Sparrow.

Vrell? How have you been? Are you-?

Achan is hurt. In the southwestern vineyard, about eighteen rows west of the eastern gate, six paces in. Bring something to carry him on.

Right away.

Vrell unlaced Achan's surcoat. His necklace caught her attention. A cham's claw as long as her index finger hung from a cord of braided leather and red twine. She fingered the cord. The twine had been hers. She had used it to decorate the jar of rue juice she had left to help Achan with his fleas. Her chest tightened.

She could not deny her feelings for this man.

She squeezed the cham's claw in her fist. "Oh... I'm such a fool," she whispered. "What do I do? What do I-?"

Vrell?

She jumped at Sir Caleb's voice in her head and dropped Achan's necklace.

We are not far, Sir Caleb said. How is he?

She smoothed Achan's fly-away hair. He is asleep, Sir Caleb. He was struck in the head. A mace.

Blazes. That boy.

Gren crept up beside Vrell. "Is he... ?"

"He should be fine."

Gren knelt at Vrell's side, perusing Achan's body with a doe-eyed stare. "When will you two marry?"

Vrell's gaze left Achan's face and settled on the burgundy sleeve tied to his left arm. Her sleeve. Gren would have heard that Achan was betrothed to Lady Averella Amal. All of Carmine knew. "I know not."

"But you said he'd be fine."

"He will be. But no date has been set..." She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his limp hand. It was sweaty and cold. The words of a song flitted to her mind. The song Yumikak had sung to Achan and Vrell in Berland.

View not my face, I am undone beside you The beating of my heart will not cease Whilst I am near you, whilst I am near you Tears flooded Vrell's eyes. She blinked them back to no avail. The sun had risen now, bathing the vines and grapes in a golden glow and warming her face.

Arman, what do I do? What can I do?

Footsteps crunched over leaves. Sir Eagan, Sir Caleb, Shung, Kurtz, and two servants bounded down the row. One of the servants carried two poles wrapped in canvas over his shoulder. A healer's litter. Vrell dropped Achan's hand and backed away, pulling Gren with her.

Sir Eagan, her father, nodded to Vrell. A calm warmth wrapped around her. Sir Eagan's bloodvoicing specialty, no doubt.

The servant dropped the litter beside Achan's body and unrolled it. Shung and Sir Eagan crouched by his head. The servants crouched on either side of his legs.