Yim struggled as the man wrapped his armored arms about her, but she did so halfheartedly. The soldier, for his part, was as gentle as he could be while still restraining her. “My lady, calm yourself. We mean no harm. Your safety and comfort are our sole concern.”
By then, the soldier’s comrades arrived running. Soon, more hands restrained Yim, albeit gently. Her cloak was taken so her wrists could be bound behind her back. The rope was soft and smooth, but the knots held fast. Yim’s filthy, tattered cloak was replaced by one like the soldiers wore. A man raised a silver flask. “Would you like some honeyed wine, my lady?” When Yim nodded, the man delicately held the flask to her lips and wiped her chin when she was done.
“She’s a lady?” Kamish asked one of the soldiers, his voice reflecting his incredulity.
“Aye, for certain.”
Kamish smirked. “Well, she does na look it. When do I get my gold?”
“When the wagon comes for her.”
“When’s that?”
“Soon enough. You won’t wait long.”
A tall soldier whose armor was more finely adorned than the other men’s approached Yim. “I’m Captain Thak, my lady. You’ll be my charge awhile. I regret that I must have you walk a little longer until we reach a suitable campsite. There, we’ll erect a pavilion where you can repose in comfort until transport arrives.”
“Transport to where?”
“Why, to the Iron Palace, the seat of your son’s domain.”
“Perhaps I’ll have a daughter,” replied Yim.
The captain chuckled, “Nay, nay, my lady. It’s always been a son for six generations.”
“And don’t call me my lady’!” snapped Yim. “Call me Karmamatus.’”
The captain’s face reddened. “That doesn’t suit,” he said in a curt tone. Then he turned solicitous again. “Would my lady like some bread and cheese before we depart? It’s soldier’s fare, but mayhap you’ve not dined well of late.”
“Some food would be good.”
“Then I’ll have a man feed you.”
A soldier arrived with coarse stale bread and a chunk of cheese so hard that he required his dagger to break off pieces. He wouldn’t untie Yim’s hands, despite her promises to behave, but fed her like a pet bird. Yim ate bits of bread and cheese, washing it down with sips of honeyed wine, until she felt full. When she was done, the soldiers marched her northwest until they reached the bank of a tiny river. The soldiers halted there, and as they began to set up camp, the horseman galloped off. Yim had little doubt that he had left to bear the good news to Lord Bahl and the Most Holy Gorm.
Yim’s “pavilion” proved to be a tent too low to stand in. Inside, a few blankets had been spread upon the ground. Yim had to enter it by awkwardly walking on her knees. Captain Thak followed after her. “Lie on your back, my lady.”
When Yim complied, she saw that the captain held a stout wooden rod that was about as long as an extended arm. At either end were iron hoops with a hinge on one side and a lock on the other. He grabbed one of Yim’s ankles and locked it inside a hoop. Yim spoke as he secured the other ankle. “So this is how you treat your lady.’ Am I to wet myself? I’m with child and make water often.”
“A man shall tend to that business,” replied Thak. “He’ll feed, dress, and bathe you also. But don’t worry, I’ll blind him first.”
“How barbaric!” said Yim. “Since it pleased Lord Bahl to show me naked, my modesty needn’t cost a man his sight.”
Thak grinned. “I was at that dinner. But then you were only a whore, not the vessel for the heir. Lord Bahl’s will is plain in this. The man must lose his eyes.”
“I’d rather wet myself.”
Thak allowed some of his contempt to show. “So well you might, but you’ll be treated as a lady regardless.”
A short while latter, a soldier groped his way into Yim’s tent. He wore no armor, nor bore any weapon. As Yim feared, his head was circled with a bandage that was bloody about the eyes. After he touched Yim’s ankle, he bowed in her general direction. “Greetings, my lady. My name is Finar. ‘twill be my honor to serve ye.” He groped outside the tent until he touched a pot of steaming water. Finar pulled it inside and closed the flap. “Captain Thak said ye need a bath.”
While Yim waited to be taken to the Iron Palace, she led a life of anxious idleness. Finar was always by her side, and she gradually adjusted to his obtrusive presence. The man seldom spoke, and he was as morose as might be expected of someone blinded so he could catch a woman’s urine. The soldiers found Yim better clothes somewhere, and she wore a clean shift that was well made and almost new. She dined on the finest food that the men could obtain. It was mostly plain fare, but abundant and vastly superior to raw hare and musk cabbage. She ate from Finar’s hand, for her wrists were always tied behind her back.
Yim felt that her existence likened to that of a lamb being fattened for a feast. All her pampering was for a purpose. Despite her courteous treatment, Yim had no illusions that she was valued; she was only the vessel for something that was. That was why she was bound night and day, so she could do nothing to jeopardize Bahl’s precious heir. And after I deliver him, then what? Yim gazed at her growing belly. She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.
It was the rider’s haste that first alerted Honus. Good soldiers conserved their mounts, driving them hard only in times of need, and the Iron Guardsmen were good soldiers. Accordingly, Honus’s curiosity was piqued, but he didn’t jump to conclusions. Instead, he continued to observe the stronghold. The rider could be warning of an enemy’s advance, the imminent arrival of fresh troops, or Yim’s capture. Lord Bahl’s response would be telling.
The rider had arrived late in the afternoon, and Honus noted nothing unusual during the rest of the day. It wasn’t until the following morning that a wagon was driven out of the stronghold. It looked like a supply wagon that had been modified by the addition of a tentlike structure over its bed. By observing the ease with which the two horses pulled the vehicle, Honus surmised that it wasn’t heavily laden. Despite its seeming lack of cargo, the wagon was well guarded. Two dozen foot soldiers marched behind it. A mounted guide led the way, accompanied by two mounted officers. Judging from the gilt armor of one of the officers, Honus thought that he was probably a general. However, it was the presence of a priest in the party that seemed most significant.
Honus had never seen the priest before, but he seemed an important person. He rode a magnificent black horse; his black robes and cloak appeared richly made even from a distance; and the iron pendant of the Devourer hung from an elaborate gold chain. The priest’s inclusion in the company made Honus conclude its purpose wasn’t military. The wagon and its accompanying troops headed east, the opposite direction of the Iron Palace. Could Yim have been captured? wondered Honus. Is the wagon meant for her?
Honus wavered over whether he should trail the wagon or continue observing the stronghold. He had few facts upon which to base a decision. All he knew for certain was that a wagon had departed accompanied by troops and a priest. As he speculated on what that signified, Honus worried that if he broke his watch he might miss what he had waited all winter to observe—a sign of Yim’s whereabouts. Yet it was also possible that he had just witnessed that sign, and inaction would doom Yim. If the wagon was intended for her, he had no assurance it would return to the stronghold.
When evening fell, Honus had yet to determine what to do. Though the wagon’s tracks would be easy to follow in a landscape emptied by warfare, he knew he shouldn’t postpone a decision for long. Honus pondered the matter while he made the long trek to tend his stolen horse. He had stabled the steed in a derelict manor house beyond the swamp. The structure was little more than four partial walls, overgrown with vines. Honus visited it only under the cover of darkness, and he reached it a little after midnight.
Honus approached the structure cautiously, for he never knew if its secret had been discovered. When he reached the ruin, he pee
red through an empty window to check its interior before entering. Someone stood in front of the makeshift stall. Honus could barely make out the person’s form in the darkness. He ducked from sight, and crept to another window for a closer view.
Honus slowly advanced without a sound, but when he raised his head, the figure had moved to within a few paces of where he stood. The form before him was that of a dark-haired woman with equally dark eyes. Honus cried out “Yim” in a voice that conveyed alarm, for she was spattered with blood from head to her bare feet. It made her white gown look dark.
The woman shook her head. Then she began to fade as she raised a bloody arm to point eastward. She continued to grow ever more transparent until she vanished altogether, leaving only frost upon the ground to mark her visitation.
Honus immediately knew that he must follow the wagon. The fact that Karm—he felt certain that the woman was the goddess—was covered with blood mystified him, but he pushed it from his mind. His long, lonely vigil was over. Honus fed his horse, saddled it, and led it into the night. He had no intentions of riding in the dark, but he wanted to be far from the stronghold when he rode off in the morning. Honus believed that his whole life had been preparation for the task ahead, and he approached it with single-minded intensity. The odds were overwhelmingly against him, but he had the assurance of a man whose defining moment had arrived. Karm had sent him eastward to manifest her wrath, and he would do his utmost to fulfill his role.
FORTY-FOUR
YIM SPENT four dreary but anxious days within the tent, waiting for something to happen. All that she could do was rebuild her strength in preparation for the trials ahead. At least the soldiers cooperated in that endeavor, and she was no longer famished or exhausted when more men arrived. At first, her ears gave only hints of what was going on. She heard hoofbeats, the rumble and creak of a wagon, and the tread of many booted feet. When the commotion stopped, she strained to overhear conversations, but they took place out of earshot. Then the camp grew quiet as if everyone had cleared out. After a spell of silence, Yim heard approaching footsteps. A man’s voice said, “I want to speak to her alone.” Then Yim heard Captain Thak’s voice. “Finar, out of the tent!”
Yim’s attendant departed, and a moment later the Most Holy Gorm entered. He was furious, and he glared at Yim so venomously that she thought he would hit her. Then she watched him restrain his rage. Instead of striking out, he raised her shift to uncover her bulging belly. Clasping it with both hands, he smiled when he felt the chill within her womb. “It’s there.”
“What’s there?” asked Yim.
“Don’t play the fool with me.” Gorm removed his hands and gazed at Yim. They locked eyes, and Yim immediately sensed him probing her, seeking to expose her secrets. She veiled her thoughts and began an assault of her own. She held nothing back, but bent her entire will toward wrenching the truth from Gorm. The suddenness and strength of her assault caught her adversary off guard, and Yim was astonished by what she briefly glimpsed. Then Gorm resisted, and his thoughts were hidden from her. Afterward, Yim and the priest engaged in a silent struggle that was motionless, but nevertheless intense.
Gorm broke off the contest first by looking away. “You have some power,” he said. “I expected as much. What you did was no happenstance.”
“I was only an ambitious whore who hoped to bed a lord.”
“Ha! The transparency of your lie. A virginal whore would be quite a novelty. Was the Sarf behind your deed? Tell the truth for once.”
“Pull down my shift, and I will.”
“All right, my lady,” said Gorm, putting a sarcastic edge to his reply. After covering Yim, he said, “Well? The truth.”
“Karm sent me. I have visions.”
“The goddess sent a mere girl? Why not a Sarf?”
“Because she’s wise.”
“Why not say weak,’ for that’s the truth of it. Force requires power.”
During Yim’s brief glimpse into Gorm, she had noted his pride and thought she might goad him into revealing something useful. “Curious words to come from one such as you, a mere priest a hanger-on Bahl’s shadow.”
“You understand nothing,” retorted Gorm. “I’m the real power behind Lord Bahl. I created him.”
“Then it was your beard that fooled me,” replied Yim. “I thought you were a man and not Bahl’s mother.”
“Do you imagine that’s what you’ll be? The mother of the next Lord Bahl? You’re but a container, one of no value.”
“Well, you can’t be important either. My visions concerned only Lord Bahl. What tiny part do you play?”
Gorm laughed mirthlessly. “You’re trying to goad me into saying something I’ll regret. It’s an old ruse, one I’ve often encountered. You can’t imagine the depth of my experience. I witnessed the Orc Rebellion. Traveled beyond the Eastern Reach and tutored the first witch king. I was there when Luvein fell. You and I may talk, but don’t presume we’re equals.”
Yim had discovered Gorm’s true age when she had probed him, but she feigned astonishment. “But that would make you centuries old! How can that be?”
“Because I serve a truly potent master,” said Gorm. “My long life and youth are but some of the benefits.”
“But what price was exacted for such favors?”
“I might ask the same of you if visions were truly boons,” said Gorm. “But look where they’ve led you. And Karm’s devotees call visions gifts.’ Ha! The goddess is stingy, and gives only those things that suit her purposes. I should know. I once studied to be a Seer.”
“You studied in the temple?”
“One in the north,” replied Gorm. “It’s long gone now. In those days one could present oneself for training, and I wished to learn how to prophesy. What I discovered is that magic doesn’t come from learning. All power derives from the nether realm. A Seer’s ability is a gift from Karm, not the result of learning meditations.”
“That’s no great revelation.”
“Yes, only basic knowledge. The crucial matter is this: What’s the point of glimpsing only what Karm wishes you to see? I wanted to learn things that would benefit me. So I left the temple and sought instruction from another source, a man who’d discovered a means to prolong life. It involved sacrifices that captured the victims’ souls before they reached the Dark Path. By that means, my mentor extended his years.”
“And that’s what you did?”
“No. The process was flawed. The man looked like a sun-dried corpse. His most useful lesson was that Karm is not the only source of magic.”
“He taught you about the Devourer?”
“I devised that name when I created its cult. At first, I knew it only as a being upon the Dark Path. It’s the well-spring of all sorcery, a thing that bestows power upon those who satisfy its needs.”
Its need for slaughter , thought Yim, keeping silent to appear ignorant. “And what did you do with that power?”
“I devised a set of magic bones by coaxing a bit of the being from the Dark Path into them. It was a perilous thing to do, but it gave the bones the power for augury. Using them, I became a counselor to mighty men. But I sold the bones to a mage.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I sensed a new role for myself. I took the Devourer for my master and became the man who advanced its cause through other men. They suffered the risks; I reaped the rewards. I fully realized the possibilities when someone destroyed the bones and their power entered the mage.”
“I’d think that you would have preferred it enter you.”
“Far from it,” said Gorm. “The mage was burnt and maimed. But he gained the power to control others’ minds. Unfortunately, that power quickly destroyed any mind it ruled. The mage was a failed experiment that I eventually ended. Yet it set me on a path of experimentation that led to the first Lord Bahl, a man whose spirit contained a bit of the Devourer. Bahl became the means for my master to act directly in this world.”
“Why
unleash such a thing?”
“Because when it rules the world, I shall be its viceroy.”
“Just a fancy word for servant.’”
“An eternal and omnipotent servant.” Gorm smiled at Yim. “What has your service to the goddess gained you? You’re a prisoner who’ll bear the child of your foe.”
“At least I’ve stopped that foe.”
“You’ve not stopped the Rising. You’ve merely postponed it.”
“The Rising?”
“Yes, Karm’s little harlot, the Rising,” said Gorm. “Bloodshed will usher it in. Upon that day, the Devourer will overwhelm Bahl’s flesh to rule the living world forever.”
“If this rising is so certain, why hasn’t it happened already? There have been many wars and many Lord Bahls.”
“It nearly happened with the first Lord Bahl. The slaughter at Karvakken Pass almost caused it. An invasion of Vinden would have made it surely so. But Lord Bahl raped a woman and lost his powers. At the time, I was unaware of how readily the Devourer forsakes one human body for a new one. It sees us as overly fragile. But my greatest error lay in slaying the woman after she delivered the child.”
“Why did you do that?”
“For revenge. She’d ruined my plans.”
“She ruined them unwillingly,” said Yim. “She was raped.”
“Regardless, she still ruined them. Yet I came to regret my vengeance. Though the child possessed his father’s powers, they were greatly diminished. I didn’t understand how things worked.”
“And how do they work?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Gorm grinned. “But I’ve told you all I intended.”
In a final effort to provoke Gorm, Yim flashed a mocking smile. “But I’ve learned far more than that. I’m not as helpless as you think.”
Gorm merely shrugged. “Empty words. From now on, you’ll be like all the other mothers.”
[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm Page 32