Read Online By Darkness Hid by Jill Williamson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jill Williamson
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asked.
What are you called? an old woman asked.
Please! the humming voice said. What is your name?
Achan cowered, wincing at the strain on his mind. Perhaps his headache was not from the stench of blood. “Stop it!” Achan yelled to the voices. “Don’t speak to me!”
Do not be afraid, the kind woman said. It is a gift.
Achan screamed to block out the voices and staggered toward home.
* * *
Despite his efforts, it was after dark when Achan approached Sitna Manor.
The drawbridge was up. Arrow loops glowed brightly in the dark night. Yellow flames spaced around the parapet and listed to the east, flickering in the gentle breeze. Achan still held the slain doe around his neck, gripping two legs in each hand.
He stopped and yelled up to the guard. “Lower the drawbridge!”
Are you all right? the kind woman asked. I sense blood.
He cringed, by now hating the painful force the voices brought. Hating how they knew things. Hating how he couldn’t silence them.
“State yer name and yer business,” a voice yelled from the gatehouse above.
“’Tis Achan Cham. I’ve returned from an errand for Sir Gavin Lukos.”
Cham? He’s a stray!
Achan! Where are you, Achan? Is Sir Gavin with you? the deep-voiced man asked.
Achan stiffened. How did this strange voice know of Sir Gavin? He looked over his shoulder but already knew there was no one.
“Stay put,” a guard yelled down.
Achan waited. His back and shoulders were numb from the deer’s weight. The leaden stench of the doe’s blood haunted him. Its stickiness drenched his left side. His fists trembled and his head ached from the voices calling out. He’d gone mad. It was a certainty he could no longer deny. The Evenwall must have drifted lower, or maybe killing the doe had somehow—
The familiar boom of the lock and the clinking chain snapped him out of his deranged fog. The drawbridge lowered slowly, revealing a lone man standing inside the outer bailey facing him.
Sir Gavin Lukos.
When the drawbridge hit the ground, Achan dragged himself across it. His new boots made dull, hollow clunks on the thick wood. He then clacked over the flagstones of the gateway and clomped onto soft dirt. The outer bailey was dark and nearly deserted. A few guards looked down on him from the sentry walk. The forge still burned in the armory.
“What yeh got there, boy?” a voice called down from above.
Achan flinched as the compression in his head grew and voices attacked at once.
What has he got? a man asked.
He’s killed something, another said.
Killed? What have you killed, dear? the kind woman asked, a slight edge to her voice.
Achan stopped in front of Sir Gavin.
Are you well? Sir Gavin spoke inside Achan’s head, just like the others.
Achan perked up, ignoring the pain, and stared at Sir Gavin. Then somehow, he sent a thought of his own. How do you do that?
Please tell me where you live, dear, the kind woman asked. And if you are hurt.
Where are you? the humming voice asked. I must find you.
Do not say, another man responded. He’ll only bring you trouble.
But he must have training, the kind woman said.
If the gods will it, he will learn.
I can teach you much , droned the humming voice. Tell me your location, and I’ll send someone for you.
Achan dropped to his knees and moaned. He clutched his temples, and the doe’s body slid off his back and thumped onto the ground.
He’s fainted. This voice was familiar. A guard. Achan looked up to the gatehouse.
Naw, he’s hurt.
Think he stabbed himself? Dumb stray don’t know which end of the knife is which.
You’re a stray?
Speak to me for a moment, I beg you, the humming voice said. Concentrate on my voice alone.
Yep. That’s the boy’s blood, thought another guard. He’s keeling over. He’s wounded for sure.
You’re a boy? How old? the humming voice asked.
Achan leaned forward and set his brow against the dusty ground. They could know not only his thoughts
What are you called? an old woman asked.
Please! the humming voice said. What is your name?
Achan cowered, wincing at the strain on his mind. Perhaps his headache was not from the stench of blood. “Stop it!” Achan yelled to the voices. “Don’t speak to me!”
Do not be afraid, the kind woman said. It is a gift.
Achan screamed to block out the voices and staggered toward home.
* * *
Despite his efforts, it was after dark when Achan approached Sitna Manor.
The drawbridge was up. Arrow loops glowed brightly in the dark night. Yellow flames spaced around the parapet and listed to the east, flickering in the gentle breeze. Achan still held the slain doe around his neck, gripping two legs in each hand.
He stopped and yelled up to the guard. “Lower the drawbridge!”
Are you all right? the kind woman asked. I sense blood.
He cringed, by now hating the painful force the voices brought. Hating how they knew things. Hating how he couldn’t silence them.
“State yer name and yer business,” a voice yelled from the gatehouse above.
“’Tis Achan Cham. I’ve returned from an errand for Sir Gavin Lukos.”
Cham? He’s a stray!
Achan! Where are you, Achan? Is Sir Gavin with you? the deep-voiced man asked.
Achan stiffened. How did this strange voice know of Sir Gavin? He looked over his shoulder but already knew there was no one.
“Stay put,” a guard yelled down.
Achan waited. His back and shoulders were numb from the deer’s weight. The leaden stench of the doe’s blood haunted him. Its stickiness drenched his left side. His fists trembled and his head ached from the voices calling out. He’d gone mad. It was a certainty he could no longer deny. The Evenwall must have drifted lower, or maybe killing the doe had somehow—
The familiar boom of the lock and the clinking chain snapped him out of his deranged fog. The drawbridge lowered slowly, revealing a lone man standing inside the outer bailey facing him.
Sir Gavin Lukos.
When the drawbridge hit the ground, Achan dragged himself across it. His new boots made dull, hollow clunks on the thick wood. He then clacked over the flagstones of the gateway and clomped onto soft dirt. The outer bailey was dark and nearly deserted. A few guards looked down on him from the sentry walk. The forge still burned in the armory.
“What yeh got there, boy?” a voice called down from above.
Achan flinched as the compression in his head grew and voices attacked at once.
What has he got? a man asked.
He’s killed something, another said.
Killed? What have you killed, dear? the kind woman asked, a slight edge to her voice.
Achan stopped in front of Sir Gavin.
Are you well? Sir Gavin spoke inside Achan’s head, just like the others.
Achan perked up, ignoring the pain, and stared at Sir Gavin. Then somehow, he sent a thought of his own. How do you do that?
Please tell me where you live, dear, the kind woman asked. And if you are hurt.
Where are you? the humming voice asked. I must find you.
Do not say, another man responded. He’ll only bring you trouble.
But he must have training, the kind woman said.
If the gods will it, he will learn.
I can teach you much , droned the humming voice. Tell me your location, and I’ll send someone for you.
Achan dropped to his knees and moaned. He clutched his temples, and the doe’s body slid off his back and thumped onto the ground.
He’s fainted. This voice was familiar. A guard. Achan looked up to the gatehouse.
Naw, he’s hurt.
Think he stabbed himself? Dumb stray don’t know which end of the knife is which.
You’re a stray?
Speak to me for a moment, I beg you, the humming voice said. Concentrate on my voice alone.
Yep. That’s the boy’s blood, thought another guard. He’s keeling over. He’s wounded for sure.
You’re a boy? How old? the humming voice asked.
Achan leaned forward and set his brow against the dusty ground. They could know not only his thoughts
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