[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm

by Morgan Howell

  Cara shivered. “Why would you learn that?”

  “It’s proved useful.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Oh, the mysterious one again! But we were talking about love. So you did na understand it. Were you trained to be a stone?”

  “Oh, I care for people. I care for them lots. Just not one especially. Not until Honus.”

  “Zounds, Yim! You’re driving me daft! Tell me. Tell me. Tell me! How did you ever fall in love with him?”

  Yim’s face took on a dreamy look. “Well, I didn’t like being his slave. Not at all! Honus scared me at first, and I disliked him. In fact, I ran away. But I quickly learned I was safer with Honus than without him. So I grew used to him, and he became nicer, but so slowly I didn’t notice. When he finally told me that he loved me ”

  “When was that?”

  “After we left the Bridge Inn. I had a horrible vision and crawled into bed with him.”

  “So that’s when you fell in love?”

  “No. I felt nothing. Well, I felt sorry for him, I guess. And bothered, too. He seemed like an overfriendly dog.”

  Cara burst out laughing and pounded her heels on the mattress. “Zounds, some men are really like that! Big dogs that keep trying to tup your leg.”

  Yim laughed, too. “At least Honus never tried to do that! But his love was bothersome. It made me hesitate to accept him as my Sarf.”

  “Well, you’re telling me lots and lots about how you didn’t fall in love. But that’s na what I want to know. So zounds, Yim, have another drink and get to it!”

  Yim took a long sip and continued. “After we left Bremven, we were attacked on the road. The black priests were stirring up folks as they have in Averen, except in Vinden they stirred them against us. The last attack was different. A Sarf found us. He said his name was Gatt, and he acted friendly up to the very moment he tried to kill me.”

  “Why would he want to kill you?”

  “Who knows? He wasn’t much for talking.”

  Cara shook her head. “What Sarf is?”

  “Anyway, I jumped into the river. That’s when Gatt cut my hair. He was aiming for my neck. Honus fought him off, and he rode away. But Honus knew he’d be back, so we fled into the mountains. What Honus didn’t tell me was that Gatt’s blade was poisoned.”

  “Poisoned! Sarfs do na do that!”

  “This one did, and the second time Honus fought him, he received a wound. Gatt retreated to let him die before coming after me.”

  Cara looked baffled. “Wait! Wait! Who was poisoned?”

  “Honus.”

  “But ”

  Yim’s face screwed up with anguish. “He died, Cara! Died alone! And and “She started crying. “All he cared about his last thoughts were of me!” Yim’s sobs became more intense, leaving her breathless.

  Perplexed, Cara gazed at her weeping friend. It was a long while before Yim regained her composure and resumed the story. When she did, she rushed to finish it. “Honus begged me to escape, so I left him as he was dying. But I changed my mind, and decided to die with him. When I returned, he was already dead. I sat beside him and waited for Gatt to come. While I did, I had the idea that I might return Honus’s spirit to his body. I’d never been able to trance before, nor have I since, but on that day Karm bestowed the gift to me. It’s true that spirits shed their memories on the Dark Path. The first thing they forget is how to live. I gathered those memories for Honus. He left a trail of them. I followed that trail, and when I reached Honus, our spirits merged.”

  Yim’s face took on an ecstatic glow as she relived the moment. “Oh, Cara! It was so so so absolutely beautiful! I knew everything. I felt everything. And for the first time, I experienced love! His love became my love. He gave it to me, and it was glorious. It is glorious. Then I returned to the living world and breathed life into his dead body. It nearly killed me, but I didn’t care. I loved him so! And then everything went black. When I opened my eyes, Honus was weeping over me. I was so happy! I kissed him right away. We kissed and kissed until I fell asleep in his arms.”

  Tears of joy streamed down Cara’s face. “That’s so beautiful!” she said, embracing Yim.

  “I woke to the happiest morning of my life. I was in love. I believed it was Karm’s gift.”

  “It was!” exclaimed Cara. “It surely was.”

  Yim sighed. “Perhaps that morning will be my only happy one. We kissed and embraced. Then I bathed alone, imagining Honus’s hands on my body. That’s when I recalled I was the Chosen and must remain a virgin until Karm tells me who’s to father my child.”

  Cara stared at Yim in disbelief. “But ”

  “How could I trick Honus into betraying Karm? He loves her as much as I do. I told him the truth, and we’ve remained chaste. It’s been torment for us both.” Yim started to sniffle. “Perhaps that’s really why I had him join your brother: Because I was afraid I’d be weak.”

  “Weak?”

  “Yes. I can’t be that. I’m the Chosen.”

  “You’re na weak. But zounds, you sure are stupid! You’ve been waiting for a sign to make a babe? Do you know why folks make babes? Well, ‘tis na because Karm taps them on the shoulder. They fall in love! So Honus is dead, and Karm sends you to the Dark Path to give him life and fall in love, and you’re still waiting for a sign? Zounds, Yim! What’s the goddess supposed to do? Strip you both naked and toss you in a barrel? You got your sign! You had it on that happy morning! If you had tupped Honus then, the child you’re supposed to bear would be growing in your belly now. And who knows? Maybe Lord Bahl would have turned to dog poop. At least, for sure, Honus would na be marching off to fight him. He’d be with you, and you’d both be happy.”

  Yim simply stared at Cara, with a stunned expression on her drunken face. As her friend’s words sank in, her expression turned anguished. “I sent him away, Cara! I sent him away!”

  Cara sighed. “Aye, you did.”

  “And he’s the father. Of course. Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t Karm tell me?”

  “She did,” replied Cara. “But from what you say, she does na speak plainly.” Then sensing that Yim was on the verge of tears again, she quickly added, “But now that you know, we can act! Honus is marching on foot, but there are horses here. We can ride and catch him before he reaches Tor’s Gate.”

  “But you’re Clan Mother!”

  “Aye, a clan mother with a steward. Besides, I promised Honus I’d watch over you. And I shall, Yim, I shall. This is love and Karm’s will all rolled into one!” Cara sighed. “And ‘tis so romantic!”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  RODRIC HAD visited Rangar only once after the troops departed, and the subject of the secret passageway did not come up. He felt relieved about that, for although he was convinced that Yim was a threat, the idea of allowing strangers in the secret way went against his grain. He believed that the deed would be justified, but it still smacked of treason. Moreover, the impostor had grown subdued of late and spent her days sulking. Rodric prayed that Yim’s quiescence was a hopeful sign, but he doubted it. As the saying went: “The adder charms the bird before it strikes.”

  Thus the steward was concerned when word came that the clan mother had not risen, though it was well past her usual time. Instead she had remained with Yim in her bedchamber. It was said that the two had been drinking late into the night. Such behavior was uncharacteristic of Cara. Yim’s influence , thought Rodric, fearing the worst.

  Cara finally appeared shortly before noon, stomping up to Rodric with bloodred eyes and her face a matching shade. “Karm’s wrath on it! Where are the maps?”

  Rodric bowed. “What maps, Clan Mother?”

  “Brother’s maps! They were on the table in the scroll room.”

  “I believe he took them with him.”

  “Shit! All of them?” Cara slumped in a nearby chair and moaned. “Oh, Karm’s aching bunions, my head! I’ll never do that again!”

  Cara’s swearing was out of character, and it made Rodric
timid. His voice was meek when he spoke again. “What maps do you seek, Clan Mother? Mayhap your brother left some behind.”

  “I need to know the way to Tor’s Gate.”

  Rodric thought that it wasn’t the time to ask why. “I’ll look myself,” he said. Then he hurried off, his mind filled with suspicions and ill-bodings. The scroll room was a shambles. Maps and scrolls were strewn about the table and floor. Rodric unrolled and examined each one before putting it away. It took a while, but his meticulousness paid off when he found what Cara had been seeking. It was an old document, and worse for wear, but it showed the route to Tor’s Gate. Rodric rolled it up and finished shelving the scattered scrolls before he left to present the map to Cara.

  After searching awhile, he found her in the room off the kitchen. She was seated at the table with Yim, who was pale and gazed queasily at her untouched bowl of porridge with bloodshot eyes. Though Yim was obviously hungover, her physical distress didn’t diminish her air of triumph. Rod-ric was curious about the cause of her mood and more than a little alarmed by it. He did his best to hide his feelings as he gave the map to Cara, who eagerly unrolled it.

  “Rodric,” Cara said. “You’ve ridden all over. How long to Tor’s Gate by horse?”

  “Would this be a leisurely ride or a gallop?”

  “‘twill be a hasty journey, but one of the riders will be inexperienced.”

  “Then two days should suffice.”

  Cara turned to Yim. “Brother said the march would take six days. If we leave this afternoon ”

  “Clan Mother!” said Rodric. “What are you planning?”

  “I must take Yim to Honus. ‘tis Karm’s will. You’ll manage affairs while I’m gone.”

  “Of course, Clan Mother,” said Rodric. “But I fear you’re overhasty.” He cast Yim a meaningful look. “A green rider with an unsettled stomach will na get far. And such a trip requires preparation. I think an early start tomorrow morn will serve you better.”

  “A wise counsel,” replied Cara, “and I’ll heed it. However, I want to leave at sunrise. So see to it.”

  Rodric bowed. “I will, Clan Mother.”

  While Cara pored over the map with Yim, Rodric went to the stables and spoke to the horse master’s wife about Cara’s needs. The woman was in charge during her husband’s absence, but the steward didn’t worry about her competence. It was irrelevant. Having performed that duty, he headed for the village and the inn. He found whom he was seeking in its common room. “Rangar, I’ll be needing another dagger.”

  Daijen smiled. “Come into my chamber, and I’ll show you my wares.”

  When the two men were behind the closed door, Rodric whispered, “Tonight.”

  “Tonight? You give me scant time.”

  “‘tis tonight or never. Yim will take Clan Mother to her doom. If we do na stop her, she’ll leave next morn.”

  “Then stop her we shall. I have the men if you’ll show them the way.”

  “There’s a roofless hut by the lake ”

  “I know it.”

  “Have the men gather there after dark. When the moon sets, a door will open. How many will meet me?”

  “Three. All good men. Sober and levelheaded.”

  “And they’ll na harm Clan Mother?” asked Rodric.

  “Never. They’re her true friends.”

  “You’ve set my heart at ease. I should go now. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

  Daijen took Rodric’s hand. “Aye, indeed.”

  After the steward departed, Daijen paced about his room cursing him. “Dawdling prig,” he muttered, “but there’s no help for it. I can only hope that Thromec’s done his part.” Daijen waited awhile before he hung a scrap of red cloth from his dagger belt and went out for what appeared to be a leisurely stroll. He ambled about the refugees’ encampment with the aimless manner of a man taking the air before he headed to a copse of trees beyond the farthest field. There, sheltered from view, Daijen waited. It was a while before a man arrived. Sharp-faced with a wispy beard and a wiry frame, he moved with nervous energy. His clothes were ragged, but his boots looked new. The toes of them had been cut off to fit his long feet. He grinned when he saw Daijen. “I saw the cloth. So ‘tis tonight?”

  “Aye, be in the roofless hut when the moon sets.”

  “‘tis just past the first quarter. ‘twill set late.”

  “That works to your advantage,” said Daijen. “Everyone will be asleep. A man will arrive to show you in. Ask him where to find her. You know what to do next.”

  “Aye, slay the dark-haired one first, the one who waved from the wall.”

  “That’s most important. Then kill the other, open the manor’s gates, and ” Daijen smiled. “ enjoy yourselves.”

  The man grinned. “We know how to do that.”

  Daijen opened a bundle that contained three sheathed daggers. “Use these tonight.”

  The man picked up one and drew the weapon to examine it. Its blade was painted with a brown substance.

  “Handle that carefully,” said Daijen. “Nick yourself, and you’ll die painfully.”

  The man slid the dagger back into its scabbard. “And ye want her head?”

  “It’s worth three gold coins to the man who brings it.” Then Daijen added, as if he had read the man’s thoughts, “The others know that, too.”

  The wiry man grinned. “Mayhap, but they’re na quick like me.” He placed the dagger with the others, rolled up the bundle, and put it under his arm. “I’ll see ye in the morning, so have yer gold ready.” With that, the man hurried off.

  Thromec arrived a short while later. “So it’s tonight? I’d hoped for more time.”

  “She’s fleeing tomorrow morning. I just found out this afternoon. How many have gathered in the wood?”

  “Several dozen when I was there this morning. ‘tis likely more have come since then.”

  “Fighters or peasants?” asked Daijen.

  “Peasants,” replied the priest. “But there are some likely lads among them, and all are inflamed. If they find that Bearer, they’ll hack her to bits along with anyone who stands in their way. To their eyes, she’s to blame for everything.”

  “Then you’ve done well, and the Most Holy One will learn of it.”

  The priest bowed to Daijen. “Our lord has graced me with the power to make it so. Never has it been so easy to bend men to my will.”

  “Our might increases as the Rising approaches. Soon we’ll triumph. Tonight’s work will bring that day closer.”

  “So when should we attack?”

  “Wait until the moon sets, then surround the hall. Slay anyone who flees it. If my men succeed within the hall, they’ll open its gates, and one will have Yim’s head. Give them time to do their work. Attack only if you believe things have gone awry.”

  “One way or another, Yim will perish,” said Thromec, “even if all within the hall must die to assure her death.”

  By late afternoon, Yim’s head and stomach had settled enough for Cara to teach her something about riding. Cara ordered her gelding to be saddled, along with a mare for Yim, and directed that the steeds be brought to the courtyard. The enclosure lacked the space for proper riding, but Cara hoped to acquaint Yim with its basics.

  When the horses arrived, Yim proved every bit a novice. She mounted clumsily after falling a half-dozen times. Neither did she know how to sit nor how to use the reins and her feet to guide the horse. However, one thing surprised Cara: Yim had an instant rapport with her mount. Cara had never seen anything like it. The mare, instead of rebelling against Yim’s inept handling, seemed to forgive it. ‘tis almost as if she wants Yim to ride her , thought Cara, amazed by the pair of them. It made her optimistic about the next day’s journey.

  Before Yim went to dinner, she filled a pack with everything that she had carried on her journey with Honus, adding Cara’s things and provisions also. At the evening meal, both women hid their growing excitement. Only Rodric and the horse master’s wife
knew of their plans, and Cara wanted it kept that way. After eating, the two women retired to bed early.

  Rodric stayed up and watched the moon from a dormer window. It moved toward the horizon with maddening slowness, and while it did, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. All afternoon, he had engaged in an internal debate over whether he should warn Cara about Yim. He had nearly done so, only to change his mind at the last instant. As the moon dipped toward the mountains, Rodric began to regret his silence. Then the fear and resentment that Daijen had stirred within him overwhelmed any second thoughts. What would have been the use of speaking? he asked himself. Cara’s headstrong, and Yim holds her in her palm. Clan Mother has been bewitched, and only Yim’s removal will break the spell .

  When the moon sank from view, Rodric steeled himself for what he must do and headed for the secret entrance. The hall was deathly quiet; the only ones awake beside him were the archers who manned the outer wall, and there were only four of them. Rodric made his way through hallways to the kitchen and then to the pantry. There, he lit a torch and descended into the lower rooms. He passed through these and climbed down the shaft to reach the oak door sealing the passageway to the secret entrance. Then he slipped the door’s bolt and entered the dank tunnel.

  The tunnel was longer than Rodric remembered, and he was dismayed to find that water had seeped into its lower portion. It was a relief to finally reach its end. There, he stood in knee-deep water in a shaft twice his height. On one side of the shaft was the complex wooden mechanism that allowed the hatch to be opened from above. Opening it from below was easier: all Rodric had to do was pull a lever. He did so, and a large stone pivoted in the ceiling to reveal a patch of night sky. The shadowy shapes of three men emerged from the opening to descend the iron rungs set in the shaft’s side. The first to splash into the water was a wiry-looking fellow. The two that followed him were shorter and bulkier. All three men were bearded and ragged, and none bore a look that Rodric would characterize as either “sober” or “levelheaded.” Rodric pushed the lever, and the secret entrance closed.

  “Greetings, friend,” said the wiry man. “So where’s the dark-haired sorceress?”