The Iron Palace

by Morgan Howell

  Wuulf gripped his sword hilt, but stayed his hand. What’s the point? he thought. Lord Bahl will serve him worse. Instead of slaying Chopper, he asked, “Where’s Telk?”

  Chopper shrugged. “Back there.”

  “Alive?”

  Chopper shrugged again. “Master wants his heart.”

  “Then ye should give it to him.”

  Chopper ambled off as Wuulf mounted his horse. Following Chopper’s trail, the captain eventually encountered Telk. He was using his hands to dig in the loam while weeping. Moli lay nearby, her chest and face covered with a sky-blue cloak. “Telk?”

  Telk didn’t look up; he just continued digging and sobbing. Wuulf dismounted and drew his sword. He walked over to the weeping man and began to use his blade to enlarge the hole. The two dug wordlessly together until the sky began to grow dark. By then, they had excavated a shallow grave and Telk had stopped crying. Finally, the captain broke the silence. “We should get her in the ground. They may come looking for us.”

  “She didn’t deserve ta die like that.”

  “Nay, she didn’t.”

  “She loved him, and I think he loved her.”

  “That’s why the black priest wanted her dead,” said Wuulf. “I see his game now. Ye shouldn’t go back. He’ll slay ye, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because ye’re Shadow’s friend.”

  “But where can I go?”

  “Anywhere but back, if ye value yer soul. I can give ye a ride awhile, for I’m not returning.” Captain Wuulf gazed at his dirt-covered blade and reflected that digging was the only worthy use he had put it to for a long time. “I’m a hard man, Telk. But not so hard that I’ll serve Lord Bahl. For that’s what yer friend will be. Not just in name, but in spirit. The priest will see to that.”

  “I don’t know if I can leave him.”

  “I know he has a hold on ye. I can see it in yer eyes. Mayhap that hold will break when yer far enough away from him. Ride with me and find out. Think on it while we put yer friend’s love to rest.”

  The two men dragged Moli to her shallow grave and covered her as best they could. Then they rode off together.

  It took a while for Stregg to realize just how well things had turned out. Having engineered the wench’s slaying, he had anticipated Chopper’s return and execution. Though love had fueled Lord Bahl’s rage, it was rage nonetheless and therefore served the Devourer. The captain’s and Telk’s desertions were unexpected boons. Their departure saved the need for further plots. After just a single day, Stregg had managed to get the heir all to himself. On the long trip to Bahland, he would use that opportunity to become his lordship’s mentor. The priest smiled, seeing the prospect as a sign of the Devourer’s grace. It seemed but the first of many blessings to come.

  FORTY-TWO

  FOR HONUS, the days of travel blended together until he lost count. Over time, the landscape altered, and mountains rose on the horizon. The trees began to shed their leaves as the days and nights turned cool and then cold. But these changes were significant to Honus only as far as they marked progress toward his destination. It was his entire focus; comfort, rest, and even food seemed of little importance. When he reached Averen, the terrain turned rugged, and on a stony mountain trail his mare slipped and broke her leg. The only way Honus could ease the horse’s suffering was by ending her life. He did it reluctantly with a single swipe of his sword and then continued onward.

  Eventually, he was greeted by a sight that he hadn’t seen for eighteen winters, the Lake of the Urkzimdi. His path hugged the northwestern shore, and the lake stretched out before him, steel gray beneath an overcast sky. Low mountains formed a backdrop, their sides dark green with pine and spruce or gray and brown with leafless maple and winter oak. To the east lay fields, orchards, and in the distance, Cara’s hall. Honus noted some changes since he had seen it last. The village had enlarged, and the walls surrounding the manor house had sprouted a strange, stumpy tower. It appeared to have a tree growing from its top.

  As Honus stared at the tower, he heard a voice behind him. “Greetings, Karmamatus. She’s na yet arrived.”

  Honus turned and beheld a bizarre young girl. From her boyish frame, he judged her nine or ten winters old. A length of vine was wrapped several times around her thin waist. It held long leaves that formed a sort of skirt, which barely met the needs of modesty. The vine and leaves were all she wore despite the chill weather. Stranger yet, she was soaking wet. Her long blond hair was plastered to her goose-pimpled skin. Nevertheless, her face was perfectly serene, showing no hint of discomfort.

  “Who hasn’t arrived?” asked Honus, too surprised to say anything else.

  “Mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Nay.” The girl smiled. “And yes.” Her moon-pale skin and sky-colored eyes seemed reminiscent of someone Honus had met, but at the moment, he couldn’t recall whom. Puzzled by the girl’s reply, Honus asked a question that might get a more straightforward answer. “Were you swimming in the lake?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why? The water’s deadly cold this time of year.”

  “To meet you.” The girl gazed at Honus awhile, seeming to study him before she spoke again. “Your iron stick has served its purpose. Best be rid of it.”

  “I thank you for that counsel,” replied Honus, not knowing what to make of the nonsensical advice or the girl who gave it. His only certainty was that she made him uneasy. Thus he smiled courteously and said, “I must take your leave, for I’m in haste to get to the hall.”

  “Of course,” the girl replied and headed in that direction.

  Honus resumed walking. Without ever looking back, the girl maintained a pace that kept her in front. It seemed to be a game to her, for whenever Honus sped or slowed his steps, the girl adjusted hers so that anyone who saw the pair would have thought the Sarf was being led. When they entered the village, Honus was surprised to find the dirt lane to the hall had been paved with fitted stones. The buildings that flanked it seemed to mark prosperous times. There was a proper inn in addition to other new structures, and many of the older ones had a story added or other improvements.

  The gates in the clan hall’s outer wall looked unchanged except that a new door had been inset within one of them. It flew open even before the girl reached it, and a young woman emerged. She appeared to be a servant and bore a dull brown cloak, which she wrapped about the girl. “Thistle!” she said, “why are you about?”

  “Mother’s coming. Karmamatus is already here.”

  The woman looked up and seemed to notice Honus for the first time. She bowed, then said, “Greetings, Karmamatus. Our clan mother welcomes all Karm’s servants to her hall.”

  As Honus returned the bow, Thistle slipped through the open door and disappeared. “Your chieftain’s hospitality is known to me,” said Honus, “for we’re old friends.”

  The woman looked surprised. “You are?”

  “From the days when Cronin was alive.”

  “Clan Mother’s slain brother? Then na wonder I do na know you, for I was but a lass during the Troubles.” The woman bowed again. “Karmamatus, please come inside and tell me your name so I might say it to Clan Mother.”

  “Tell her Honus has returned.”

  Honus followed the woman through the doorway. The pair then passed through a small, cobbled courtyard and into the hall of the Urkzimdi clan. The wood-paneled entrance hall matched Honus’s recollections. Upon entering it, his guide turned to him. “You seem travel worn. Perhaps you’d like some refreshments and a chance to rest.”

  “Those things matter little to me,” replied Honus. “I’m more eager to speak with your clan mother.”

  “Then I bid you wait in the great hall while I tell her that you’re here.”

  The woman escorted Honus to the empty room and then departed. Honus gazed about the hall, which was the site of banquets and important occasions. Everything he saw evoked memories of his last visit. He recalled t
he evening Yim and he arrived. At the banquet, Yim had told Cronin that his true enemy was the Devourer and that he couldn’t fight a god. Cronin stormed out of the hall, but what she said proved true. Honus reflected that it remained true, and although Lord Bahl had lost his power, it had merely passed to another. The foe remains the same, and we’re still powerless against it. Then Honus’s musings were interrupted by the echoing sound of rapid footsteps. He turned and saw Cara running toward him.

  “Honus! Oh, zounds, is it truly you? I’ve thought you were dead for nigh on eighteen winters! And who would na? Havren said you went to fight Lord Bahl alone. And then na a peep from you since then. I’m displeased, Honus, I truly am.”

  Honus smiled. “Then I throw myself on your mercy.”

  “Well, ’tis in short supply. My children have used it up. I have five, na that you’d know. Where have you been? Under some rock? And what of Yim?”

  “It’s a long tale, Cara.”

  “And I want to hear every word of it,” replied Cara. “ ’Tis clear you’ve na led an easy life. Zounds, Honus, you look awful!”

  “And you look just the opposite,” said Honus. “You seem little changed since we parted.”

  “Pah, Honus! When did you learn flattery? I’m thicker in the middle—children do that to you—and short one arm, in case you have na noticed. But ’tis …” Cara’s eyes welled with tears, and she threw her arm around Honus. “Oh ’tis so good to see you! So … so very good.”

  Honus felt his own eyes tear up as he returned Cara’s embrace. They stood that way awhile, neither speaking, until Cara finally broke the silence. “Now tell me something, Honus. What happened at Tor’s Gate? I know that Yim arrived, for Havren told me so. He also said she left the same night and did something that changed all our fortunes and that you went to find her.”

  “He promised silence concerning my plans.”

  “Oh, zounds, Honus, I married him. So naturally, he told me everything. He did na have a choice.”

  Honus smiled. “I can readily see that. Well, here’s a shortened version of my tale. Yim arrived, convinced that she was supposed to bear my child.”

  Cara grinned. “I did that!”

  “But I had to position my troops before she and I could lie together. While I was gone, Karm came to Yim and revealed who must father her child.”

  “It wasn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Then who?”

  “Lord Bahl.”

  Cara stared at Honus, shocked into silence for once.

  “When Yim conceived with Bahl,” continued Honus, “his powers went to his unborn child. Yim’s sacrifice brought us this current stretch of peace.”

  “But who told you that? Yim left you.”

  “Yim herself. I freed her from Lord Bahl’s soldiers. I would have gone anywhere with her, but she said that we must part. She went north to raise the child alone and I …” As Honus paused to calm himself, he thought of how Cara had married, borne children, and governed a clan, while he had become self-absorbed with his misery. The comparison chagrined him. “I didn’t take it well. I blamed Karm for tearing us apart and despised her for it. In my rage, I renounced her. I became a derelict who tranced to seek the forgotten joys of the dead.”

  “Oh, Honus, why did na you come here instead?”

  “My entire life was dedicated to the goddess. After renouncing Karm, I lacked purpose. Moreover, anything that reminded me of Yim heightened my pain. I couldn’t come here. I found happiness only on the Dark Path, though it was never truly mine.”

  “So what changed?”

  “A former Bearer plucked me from my errant path by giving me hope and a purpose. He said Yim needs me.”

  “Then why come here? I’m pleased you did, but puzzled.”

  “It was the guidance of my runes. They said to seek you out.”

  “So now what? Yim’s na here. I’ve heard na more from her than you. I thought both of you were dead.”

  “Regardless, my runes directed me here,” said Honus. “Now all I can do is wait.”

  “And you’re more than welcome to do so. We can grow old together, though it seems you’ve got a big head start. Zounds, Honus, those runes were tattooed on your back when you were just a child! They’ve been saying the same thing for what? Forty winters?”

  “Actually, a bit longer.”

  “So what makes you think Yim will show up anytime soon? I hope to Karm she does. But, face it, it does na seem likely.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” replied Honus. “You used to be such a romantic.”

  “I still am. But I’ve seen a lot since we last spoke. Too much, that’s for sure! And I so wanted Yim and you to … oh, well … at least you’ve come back. I’m glad for that.”

  “Now you must tell me about your life,” said Honus, “though I’m not entirely unenlightened.” He smiled. “You’re quite renowned. I’ve even learned from a ballad that faeries took your arm.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “So you heard that version. Na the one where a great fish bites it off? Myself, I prefer the ballad in which I take up my severed arm and club my foes to death.”

  “So what really happened?”

  “My steward betrayed me, and the hall was attacked. Yim and I escaped, but were caught outside the walls. A man with a scythe did this,” said Cara, pointing to her stump. “Yim saved me by rowing us to the faerie dell, where the Old Ones healed me in a single night. The next day was the last I ever spent with Yim.”

  “So you’ve met the Old Ones?”

  “Only that one time.”

  “What are they like?”

  “They were the size of children and covered with fur. Though they looked a bit like animals, I thought they were kindly and wise. That’s before I learned about Dar’s Gift.”

  Honus was puzzled. “You mean the cheese?”

  Cara laughed with a hint of bitterness. “That’s what we called that ball of cheese. We called it Dar’s Gift for generations. The clan mother and her eldest daughter took the cheese to the dell each fall when the tree turned gold. But the cheese was never truly the gift.”

  “Then what was?”

  “I learned that the hard way! My first born were twin girls, Rose and Violet, so much alike that the midwife confused them and couldn’t say who was birthed first. So to keep with tradition, both accompanied me when I took Dar’s Gift to the dell. There, you place the cheese on a certain stone, the same one where Dar Beard Chin made the first offering. And then it seems you only blink your eyes, but the day is gone and so is the gift. But the fourth time I took the twins with me, when I opened my eyes, more than the cheese was gone. Violet was, too!”

  “You mean the Old Ones stole your daughter?”

  “I thought as much, though I dared na search the dell for her. Besides, ’twould have been pointless as well as perilous. But in the spring, Violet came home on her own, seeming na a day older than when I last saw her. She said she’d been faerie-kissed.”

  Honus recalled the faerie-kissed girl that he and Yim had encountered on their journey. Her name had been Lila, and he realized that Lila was the one whom the strange girl resembled. “Do the Old Ones do this often?” Honus asked. “On the road today, I met a girl named Thistle who also seemed faerie-kissed.”

  “Then you saw Violet, for Thistle’s the name she’s taken. Was she naked?”

  “No,” replied Honus. “She wore a skirt of leaves.”

  “Well, thank Karm for that! I swear that—Nay, I will na go into it. Yet ’tis strange you met her, for ’tis the season when she sleeps with the Old Ones. Sleeps like a bear through winter in their burrows. She does na age then, only when she bides with us. ’Tis a strain on me, there’s na denying it. Rose has entered womanhood, and her twin remains a child. But a child who seems older than anyone I know. And odder, too. Zounds, that’s Karm’s truth. Na doubt you saw her tower. I had it built when she could na longer abide the manor. Did you see that tree? ’Tis an oak wi
th a trunk thicker than a man. Well, it grew in just one season.” Cara shook her head. “The Old Ones saved my life, but took my daughter. And you know what, Honus? There’s many a day that, if given a chance, I’d work that bargain the other way. I swear by Karm, Violet’s stranger each time she returns from the dell. She’s taken to giving things different names and insisting they’re the right ones. Thistle, for one. She’ll na answer to Violet, though I keep trying.”

  “Does she call a sword an iron stick?”

  “Aye. Why do you ask?”

  “She told me to get rid of mine. She said it had served its purpose.”

  “Then you see what I put up with—a string of nonsense.”

  “I’m not so sure it’s nonsense,” replied Honus.

  “Zounds, Honus! Do na start with me! What would you know about it?”

  “Yim and I encountered a mother and daughter who were both faerie-kissed.”

  “Yim never mentioned that.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Honus. “There was something otherworldly about the pair, as if they spoke only secrets.” Honus paused. “I just recalled something—both of them called Yim ‘Mother.’ I think your daughter did the same today. She greeted me on the road and said, ‘She’s not yet arrived.’ When I asked who hadn’t arrived, she said ‘Mother.’ And she told a servant ‘Mother’s coming.’ ”

  “So?”

  “I think Thistle was telling me that Yim’s coming. I believe she’s far wiser than you credit. Why wouldn’t she be? After all, Thistle’s your daughter.”

  “I’d prefer you call her Violet, and na that weed. Zounds, the trials one’s children put one through! You should thank Karm that you didn’t beget a child!” Cara, put her only hand to her mouth, “Oh sorry, Honus, I should na have said that! How stupid! Please forgive me.”

  Honus smiled, albeit somewhat sadly. “I do, Cara. But before you complain about Violet again, remember Yim and her child.”