If Achan could get to a horse… No boots and almost no clothes, but at least he'd be free. "Was Jaira also trying to kill me?"
"I no longer care what my sister does. I have aligned my future with Barth. Men have power in Barth, you see. Women rule in Jaelport. They always have. A Jaelportian man must leave Cela Duchy to find true freedom. This I have done."
"How's that work, exactly? Do women blow powder in your face every time you disagree?"
Silvo snorted. "You have no idea what my mother and sisters are capable of. I will never go back. My brother and I prefer to serve a more powerful and just master."
"Brother?"
Silvo's eyes narrowed. "What did you do to him?"
"Who?"
"My brother, Sir Marken, you fool."
"I didn't do anything."
"You hurt him. And Zinder. What did you do?"
Achan opened his mouth but didn't speak. He didn't know enough about storming to explain Prince Oren's actions.
Silvo grabbed Achan's head and pushed him toward the water. Achan twisted so his shoulder struck the top of the wooden tub. Silvo had better leverage and forced Achan down. Achan's arm scraped over the tub's rough edge. He managed a deep breath before his head plunged beneath the water again.
Blood rushed to Achan's head. His face burned with pressure. He held his breath as long as he could, then jerked up, hoping Silvo would think him choking and pull him out. He sucked in a mouthful of water by accident. He tried to swallow, but the liquid ran up his nose instead. It burned and caused him to gasp in more water. He tried to lift his head, but two sets of hands held him under. He shook and fought, all the while gulping water.
The hands released him. He pulled his head up and gasped, but air didn't enter his lungs. He coughed and slumped onto his side. His stomach heaved, and a mixture of water and bile streamed past his lips.
Silvo kicked him in the back. "That's disgusting, stray."
Achan panted and wheezed, ignoring the smarting pain from Silvo's boot. Between breaths, he managed, "I'm…not a…stray."
Silvo clutched Achan's hair. He lifted him up and dropped him on his knees. "What did you do to our men?"
Achan shifted his knee off a sharp rock. "I didn't do anything." He coughed up more water and spit it at Silvo's feet.
Silvo punched him. Fire shot through Achan's left cheek. He fell back and caught his weight on his right elbow, barely managing to stay off the ground.
"Did that hurt?" Silvo leaned over and dragged his fingernail over the wound on Achan's left cheek, ripping away the scab. "I like your new marks."
Achan grunted against the pain and slumped back to escape the pressure of Silvo's finger, falling on his bound hands. He tuned his open wound to the ground where Silvo couldn't reach. Silvo straddled him, grabbed his chin.
"Enough," a muffled voice said.
Silvo released him and stood. The second black knight removed his mask. His grey hair puffed out like a mushroom. Achan's brows furrowed. He recognized Sir Nongo as the towering black knight who'd attacked him-who'd nearly killed him-on the journey to Mahanaim.
"Are all of you mages?" Achan asked.
"Sakin Magos are being more than mages," Sir Nongo said. "We are being strong in our bodies and our minds. We are being invincible warriors."
Invincible? "When the four of you attacked me-alone, unarmed, and unaware-didn't two of you go down like redpines?"
Silvo kicked Achan's thigh.
Sir Nongo pushed Silvo back. "We are not having time for this." His pale grey skin and grey hair made him look like a living corpse. "We have been silencing your mind games. You might have been succeeding once, but you will not be again."
Achan ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. The lingering bitterness was more than the rancid aftertaste of bile. They had given him the aleh tonic. A chill seized him. Not even Prince Oren could help him until its effects wore off.
Call on Arman, his uncle had said.
But Achan knew so little of Arman. Cetheria, the goddess of protection, had been the goddess he'd served all his life, though she had done nothing for him. In fact, the one time he'd entered her temple, he'd heard another voice-Arman's voice-claiming that Cetheria was a false god.
Well, if Arman could talk to Achan, why couldn't Achan talk to Arman? It seemed a bit bold to address any god outside his temple, though circumstances were dire. Perhaps if he-
"We must be moving," Sir Nongo said. "Silvo, be switching his cuffs to the front and hooking him to the cart."
Silvo kick-rolled Achan to his stomach, giving him a mouthful of moist sand. Achan spit the grittiness from his mouth. His right cuff came free and another sharp kick propelled Achan onto his back. Silvo drew his hands together in the front, but before he could hook the cuffs, Achan kneed him in the chin and used both feet to kick Silvo back. Silvo staggered.
Achan jumped to his feet and slugged Silvo's nose. Silvo grunted, shot a dark glare Achan's way, and lunged.
Achan darted aside and swung the iron cuffs into the back of Silvo's greasy head as the young lord stumbled past. Achan spun toward the horses and met Sir Nongo's black blade, pointed at his chest.
He froze and lifted his hands, sucking in long gasps of air. The metal cuff dragged his right wrist downward. His left knuckles throbbed from Silvo's nose.
"Silvo," Sir Nongo said. "Be putting out the fire. I will deal with the stray."
Silvo growled from behind Achan. He teetered past Sir Nongo, a trail of blood running down his neck from his oily hair. His nose didn't seem affected by Achan's fist.
Sir Nongo waved his blade, directing Achan to the back of the cart. "Soon you will be meeting Gazar." The knight snagged the lose cuff, threaded it through a slat on the back of the cart, and secured it to Achan's free wrist.
Achan forced a brave response. "Arman will ransom me."
Sir Nongo stared down on Achan from heavy-lidded eyes. "Only Barthos is having power in Barth." He walked to a white and black horse and mounted it.
Achan studied the bodies in the cart but couldn't see well enough to recognize them. Silvo's brother, perhaps? Stormed? Trapped in the Veil?
To his left, Silvo kicked dirt over the campfire, bringing a deeper darkness, drawing Achan's eyes back to Sir Nongo, who now held a lit torch aloft. He rode ahead of the mule-drawn cart, pulling the other three horses on a tether behind him.
Silvo climbed up to the wagon seat and steered the mule after Sir Nongo. The wagon wheels grated over the sharp rocks, tugging Achan's wrists forward, then the rest of him.
Achan stumbled along in the dark, his bare feet pained on the sharp rocks. His heart quaked in his chest. He called out again, to see if the aleh had worn off.
Sir Gavin! Sir Caleb! Prince Oren! Inko! Sparrow!
No answers came.
Achan did not want to be sacrificed. He tipped his head back, as if to look up to Shamayim.
Arman!
14
Vrell's horse carried her north. Though her surroundings were black and Darkness called to her fears, she knew her horse was tethered behind Scout, who was directly behind Sir Gavin. She focused on Sir Caleb's voice as he lectured on the long-time feud between Magos and Cherem. Vrell had a pretty good grasp of history, but when Sir Caleb mentioned the Sar's custom of sacrificing his female children, she had to interject.
"The Sar kills all female children?"
"Only his own," Sir Caleb said. "Women are property in Cherem. A man may take two wives: an ishaw and a beten. A beten bears him children. An ishaw is poisoned so she may never bear children and serves as her husband's slave. Should a man's beten be unable to bear children, or should she bear only females, the man may banish her and choose another."