by Marie Brown
Chapter 5: The Path of Redemption
The Guardians of the Path occupied a small Church and refectory complex crouched uneasily on the side of the massive, looming Hellmount. The entire volcano was enclosed by a stone wall, securing it, making certain that no unwary wanderer ever trod the Path by accident. Dorian couldn't stop himself from sticking tight to Osval's side as they approached the very gates of Perdition.
"I didn't think it would smoke all over like that," Osval said, pace slowing.
"It looks ready to swallow the world."
"Yes."
The two men lagged behind, not even noticing Rothanna's resolute march directly into the Church. The volcano loomed over them, threatening imminent destruction.
"What if it erupts?"
Dorian chuckled weakly. "Then we'll know the Creator has deemed everyone for miles around worthy of ascension to Veritas."
"Maybe." Osval's feet stopped moving, and he reached out and touched Dorian's arm. "Dori. Are we really going to do this? Are we truly going to walk the slopes of a volcano? They erupt, you know."
"I am. I don't know about you, but I need this, terror and all. I want to get rid of the sin inside me, before it corrupts my life through, past all hope of redemption. I need to be normal."
Osval looked away from the looming menace, straight into Dorian's soul. "Dori, whatever happens in there, remember the good times we've had, okay? I've never seen you as a sinner, or anything other than a normal person, and my closest friend. Never forget that."
"Nothing will make me forget your friendship, Osval," Dorian said, fighting to keep his response in check. He only partially succeeded, for no power in him could keep his hand from reaching out to touch Osval. "Or the way you refuse to give up on me, no matter how I try to push you away for the sake of my soul."
"Your soul. . ." Osval broke off what he'd been about to say, and gave himself a shake. "Right. For the health of our souls, then. Let's do this."
Together, they moved the last few steps of the path, each entering the Church because the other did.
Inside, they saw no sign of Rothanna. She must have already set foot to the Path itself.
"Welcome, Pilgrims," a priest said, materializing out of the thick interior shadows. "Have you come to seek Veritas?"
"Yes," Dorian replied. "Yes, we have."
The priests took their tokens, the ones they'd received from the Church back home, and provided them with leather packs.
"The journey is long and difficult," one of the anonymous robed men said, watching Dorian and Osval settling their packs. "It may stretch over a period of several days. This difficulty is essential, for the health of your souls. While on the Path, remember, disaster may strike at any moment. But should you live to reach the end, the brothers at the exit gate will grant you your new start in life, with a sum of gold, and garments suitable for normal travel. Fare well, my Pilgrims, and may you earn the redemption you seek."
And then it all became real, with no turning back. Because the priest led them to a courtyard, and to an ornate, sturdily locked iron gate.
"This gate represents the crossing between this world and the next," the Gatekeeper told them, as he unlocked the rusted iron padlock. "It is a place that ties two worlds together, that of the living, and that of the dead. There is no turning back now. In order to return to life, you must cross through to the other side."
Dorian gulped, but stepped forward resolutely. He felt a sense of hope as his foot fell on the other side of the gateway, on the Path itself. Right out of the mortal world. He shivered as he took his first full stride into the fringes of Perdition.
"Here we go," Osval said, stretching his legs to catch up to Dorian. Behind them, the iron gate creaked shut, sealing them out of the mortal world.
"What do you think we'll find?"
"Redemption, of course. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"
Dorian didn't bother to respond. Instead, he picked his way forward, feeling a shiver of apprehension. What lay ahead? Redemption, sure, but to get to it, they had to go through Perdition. Just the fringes, the outlying areas, but still Perdition. Would they meet any demons?
Within an hour of starting on the true Path, they knew they truly had left the normal world behind.
"What is it?" Osval asked, as they stared at the innocuous crack in the groung that hissed and steamed.
Dorian should have told him to back off, step away, quit crowding so indecently close. But instead, he stared at the proof of hellfire and quivered inside, taking comfort from Osval's nearness. Seeing the mountain itself smoking from a distance hadn't prepared him for this, the source of the smoke. "It's a vent," he said eventually. "What else could it be? It's a vent, letting the smoke from the fiery pits of torment escape, lest they blow up like a boiler without a relief valve."
"You know, I could almost believe that. But come on, let's get moving. The day isn't getting any younger, and I don't want to spend any more nights than necessary in this place."
"We are close, so close. . . Yes. Let's move on. I hope the ground is sturdy, because I never want to get any closer to hellfire than we are right now."
That was the first of many wondrous terrors the two young men encountered over the next two days. As they followed the Path along the slopes of the blasted mountain, they passed many more steaming vents, and toxic hot springs, and pools that bubbled incessantly. There was one phenomenon they discovered right up on the mountain itself that terrified both of them into clutching at each other like frightened little children. They'd been talking about the weird shape of the Hellmount, how it looked rather like a vast explosion had pulverized the side of the mountain they were picking their way across, leaving the other half intact, when the ground itself boomed and a bubbling pool exploded. A scalding plume of water shot straight up into the air, steaming and hissing, while Osval and Dorian clung to each other in horror. Then Osval noticed that the water was coming back down in a runoff channel that aimed straight for them.
"Dori, run!"
They ran, tripping and stumbling, as the water hissed its way across the Path behind them.
"That was closer than I want to come to death," Osval panted, when they stopped their panicked flight. Behind them, the plume had subsided to a steady blupping boil again, lurking, waiting to erupt on the next unwary traveler.
"I agree. Even if it does mean going straight to Veritas, I don't want to get boiled alive. Let's get out of here."
"I'm right with you. Lead on!"
They made it a total of three days, picking their way through the volcanic wasteland, sleeping on ground that kept them warm, before true disaster struck.
They'd finally passed the worst of the threats midmorning. The Path carried them out of the hellish fields of Perdition and onto a twisty, slippery trail, covered in volcanic cinders and enormous, pitch black boulders.
"This part of the Path is the most miserable yet," Osval observed, as they picked and slid their way along the narrow thread of Path snaking down the side of the massive Hellmount.
"It is necessary," Dorian shrugged. "You heard the priest. We must subject our bodies to hardship and misery to cleanse ourselves of the evil within. Although I think the valley of fire back there did a pretty thorough job of creating hardship and misery."
"Good thing you and Leola are getting back together," Osval grumbled. "You're sounding just like her these days. Whatever happened to—shit!"
Osval's foot slipped on the treacherous Path, and he crowded up against the side of the cliff. Dorian turned, heart in throat, then started to admonish his friend for swearing here, of all places. Then, even as Osval smiled at him and started to move forward, he slipped again.
Time slowed down into an agonizing crawl. Dorian saw every detail of the crumbling black rock of the Path, Osval's foot shooting in slow motion straight off the edge, the smile on his friend's face shifting into pure panic as both feet went off the Path and he started to fall.
Dorian's hea
rt stuttered and threatened to stop dead in his chest even as he lunged for Osval. He caught a hand, then both of them hit with wrenching suddenness. Dorian fell belly down on the Path, Osval clinging to his hand and dangling over the edge of the sheer cliff. Somewhere, far down below, an angry river roared.
Oh please God not him I don't care if You've forgiven him and want him with you I NEED HIM don't take Osval PLEASE!
Dorian's arm wanted to break from the awkward angle. He shifted minutely, and Osval managed to grab hold of the cliff with his other hand, easing a fraction of the strain.
"Don't you dare let go, Dori!"
Dorian ignored the words, instead concentrating on getting a better grip. He also managed to get his knees up under him, so he wasn't sprawled flat on the trail. "Can you get up here if I pull?"
"Maybe," Osval said, panicked eyes locked on his friend. "Just don't let me fall!"
"Never." Dorian braced himself the best he could manage, ignoring the pain of the sharp volcanic rock digging into his knees and shins, then used every ounce of strength in him to pull at Osval, all the while praying frantically. "Come on, you can do it, I know you can. Up. All the way."
Bits of the rock wall broke off as Osval struggled to get back on the Path, bouncing away into nothingness. Dorian ignored them, just like the pain. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Osval was almost back up on the much safer Path now, nearly half of him up over the edge, and here came a leg. . . "Almost there. Come on. Just a bit more!"
He put a bit of extra effort into his pulling, and Osval made it back onto the narrow Path.
Just about long enough to have a panting breath or three, though. Then the overstressed Path gave way completely and both young men fell in a shower of viciously sharp volcanic rock shards.
Dorian lost all rational thought to pure animal panic as he fell through the air. He screamed, then all the air got knocked out of him as he hit some kind of ledge. The panic grew worse as he tried to breathe and couldn't. It hurt. He'd brought them here to this horrible place, and now both of them were going to die, and all his attempts at useless piety couldn't help him now. It hurt. And where was Osval? He had to breathe, or he couldn't find Osval!
Finally, after an eternity of burning pain in his lungs, Dorian managed a single, whooping breath. The air gritted with dust, but it felt as wonderful as life itself inside his lungs. He gasped, chest heaving as his body tried to recover, then sat up and looked for Osval.
"Osval! No, oh no, please no. . ."
His friend lay in an awkward position, still as death. No! Dorian scrambled across the ledge, part of him noting the decent width of the ledge and that neither of them was in immediate danger of falling again, and shoved rubble out of the way until he reached Osval. Trembling with the fear of what he might find, he reached for Osval's neck, where the big artery should throb with life. He couldn't find it at first, then realized after checking his own neck he'd missed the spot. There! A steady, strong pulse.
Dorian blinked against the sudden prickling of relieved tears and started sorting out Osval's limbs, getting him out of the awkward position he'd landed in and checking for broken bones or other obvious injuries.
Osval groaned. "Dori?"
"Right here, Osval."
"Help me sit up, would you? I've got a horrible rock digging into my kidney."
Dorian helped him up, then lost some of his decorum and pulled Osval into his arms for an awkward, though heartfelt, hug. "Osval, I thought I'd lost you," he murmured into the other man's neck. "I thought you were dead. I swear, I don't know what I'd ever do without you. I need you. I can't face life on my own."
"I'm right here, Dori, and I'm not going anywhere."
Dorian thought he should probably let go, but he didn't want to. Osval held him just as tight, with no indication he wanted to let go, either.
"Don't you ever do that again, Osval," he said, pulling away enough to see Osval's face, dirty and scratched, but alive. The memory of seeing him go over the cliff edge reached up and strangled him and his hold tightened. "Never. You just can't die, do you understand me?"
Then, because he wasn't thinking clearly in the stressful moment, because his soul still felt black with sin even here on the Path of Redemption, he did what he'd wanted to do for so very long and kissed Osval.
Their lips met with a jolt that felt akin to a lightning strike. Dorian forgot to be afraid of sin for a long, beautiful moment, feeling Osval in his arms, as his friend shifted even closer and buried his hands in Dorian's short hair.
But then the beauty ended when Osval broke away.
"Ow!" He rubbed at his back, but wore a brilliant smile, and didn't let go with his other hand. "Bad time for a cramp. Let me just—"
Then Dorian's conscious mind caught up with what he'd done and he stood up abruptly. Now what? Uh. . . Act like any proper Bandoran when something went wrong: it never happened.
"We'd best get back on the Path," he said, although his voice wobbled a bit. All he wanted to do was kiss Osval again.
"Dorian, you are just unreal." Osval shook his head slowly, then tried to rise to his feet.
"What do you mean?" Dorian helped, this time keeping his hands to a more appropriate contact.
"I mean, you can't just kiss me like that and pretend it never happened. Because it did. And I'm not about to let it go."
"Please, Osval," Dorian backed up a step, noticing as he did so that the ledge opened out into some kind of cave. "Please. Don't."
"Don't what? Don't tell you how badly I needed that?" Osval stepped closer, carefully avoiding the rubble on the ledge, and reached for Dorian.
Who, of course, stood stiff as a board.
"Damn you, Dori," Osval said, somewhat muffled by Dorian's robe. "Damn you. You can't get away with this."
Dorian's arms crept up and wrapped around Osval, although he tried to tell them not to. Well, maybe just a hug. . . It'll be okay.
"That's better. I can't tell you how long I've wanted this. I know it's wrong, in the eyes of God and man, and I just don't care. I just want to love you, and be loved by you, and spend my days hearing you laugh. And seeing you smile. And watching the way your eyes light up when you see me. All I want in life is you, Dori, and be damned to social mores. I wanted to keep you around so badly I talked you into proposing to my sister, for pity's sake. Because if you married Leola, you'd be family for real, and I'd have every excuse in the world to spend time with you."
Dorian's hands moved tentatively as Osval spoke, exploring the strength in the male back beneath them, making the inevitable comparison with holding Leola. Comparison? Not really. These sensations made him suddenly understand why some people could commit this sin despite the threat of Purification.
"Osval, please," he said, trying to pull away. "Don't. You know it's not right. You know this is the sin that brought me here. Please. . ."
"Or do you want me to just give up? Would that make your damned morals feel better?" Osval broke away, out of Dorian's arms, glaring. "Would it be better if I just pitched myself off this godforsaken cliff for real? Be an easy end to your problem, after all."
"Osval!" Dorian all but dove forward, catching Osval in his arms and holding him tightly. "Don't even think about it!"
"I want to be with you, Dori," Osval murmured, the words tickling Dorian's neck. "I don't like what you're trying to do to yourself these days, but I'll forgive you, if you just let go and love me."
Dorian couldn't break away. His last bits of resolve weakened under the onslaught of countless strong emotions. His senses reeled, struggling to take in everything: the flickering darkness behind his tight-shut eyes, the scent of Osval's hair, his warmth, the near desperation they held each other with. . .
"Osval, I don't even care anymore. I need you too badly. Forget the Church. Forget society. And damn God for making laws that say love it wrong."
Then he did it deliberately, on purpose, with full knowledge that he committed a mortal sin. He moved a b
it, opening his eyes enough to find Osval's lips, and kissed a man.
Osval kissed him back, intense and awkward and filled with love. It was beautiful, easily one of the most incredibly wonderful events in Dorian's life, second only to that first kiss. Why? Wasn't sin supposed to be vile and depraved? Not glorious. Not the kind of thing that lifted his soul straight to Veritas on wings of pure joy.
"I am so sorry," he murmured, and Osval shivered. "I tried so hard to deny this feeling, and all I really did was act like a complete fool."
"You're forgiven," Osval replied, and Dorian learned why he'd been shivering. The feel of his breath, and his warm lips moving so close against his skin. . . Dorian shivered, too.
Then Dorian pulled away, ignoring Osval's immediate sound of protest. "I have no idea what we're doing," he said, fumbling at the rope belt securing the lumpy robe to his body, "but I know we're wearing way too much by way of clothing."
Osval laughed, and they peeled away the enveloping robes. Dorian blushed as his came off, leaving him in nothing but underpants. He hadn't been naked in front of anyone since he was a child, too young to bathe on his own. So to mask his embarrassment, he spread his robe out on the rough ground, then kissed Osval.
The embrace was infinitely better without the enveloping fabric in the way.
"Oh, the things I want to do to you," Osval panted, face flushed beneath the coating of dirt. "Dori, let me love you!"
"I'm not stopping you anymore," Dorian murmured, around what felt like his heart up in his throat. Or was that a knot of madness? It might be, it might very well be. . . "Osval. Love me always. Stay with me. I need you. I can't bear the thought of losing you."
The things they did then, right there on the very Path of Redemption, condemned them straight to the deepest pits of Perdition in the eyes of the Church. Dorian didn't care, anymore. All he cared about was the feel of Osval's skin under his hands, and the surprising ways Osval touched him, and the pleasures they discovered in each other's arms.
Afterwards, they lay together on their discarded clothing, there on the ledge that had saved their lives. Dorian felt good. So good, in fact, that he couldn't believe God hadn't stricken them both dead. And not in the good way, either. Not the kind of death that meant God forgave them and wanted them with Him. No, the kind of death that sent them both straight to the true depths of Perdition, where the hellfires burned so hot the smoke forced its way out through the ground above.
Somehow, he didn't feel sinful anymore, even though he'd committed such sins of the flesh that his soul was doomed forever. In fact, he felt peaceful inside, and able to find beauty even in the harsh environment of the Path. It wasn't actually Perdition, after all. He could see that now. They were on the slopes of a perfectly natural volcano. The gate they'd gone through at the monastery hadn't opened out into a different reality. It had just let them access the slopes of the volcano rearing behind the monastery. The land around them was harsh, true, but it was a natural harshness, not the place of eternal torment. In light of his newfound peace, he recognized that every strange and dangerous thing they'd seen was just a natural part of the volcanic system.
Dorian realized something, as he lay naked with his lover under the light of the setting sun. He realized that the Path of Redemption had done its job. He hadn't necessarily found forgiveness in the eyes of God, but he'd forgiven himself. The thought made him smile as he toyed drowsily with Osval's hair. The peaceful feeling inside made all the trials of the Path worthwhile.
Of course, there'd likely be problems when they made it off the slopes of the volcano, but he'd deal with those when they came. Their best option probably lay in leaving Bandor entirely. Everybody knew most countries weren't civilized, and wallowed in sin and depravity the likes of which proper God-fearing Bandorans couldn't even imagine. And all who survived the Path were given an equal fresh start to their new lives, a hundred gold coins. Of course, that was a mere pittance compared to what he'd surrendered to the Church on beginning this quest, but he truly didn't care at this moment. All that mattered was the man here in his arms, and their chance at a new life together.
"Osval," he said, trying to find a way to kiss his lover without dislocating his shoulder. "Wake up, Osval."
"No," came the sleepy protest.
"Yes. You have to let me up, okay? I'm going to find the packs. The sun's going down, and you know how cold it gets out here."
"Oh, okay." Osval sat up with a groan. "God, I hurt."
"Me too. Guess falling down a mountain will do that to a person." Dorian slipped into his underpants, then stood and discovered there were gravel bits inside. He shook the bits out, grimacing, and made sure to shake his robe out well before putting it on.
The packs were easy enough to find. One had caught on a rock outcropping high overhead. The other had come loose at some point and fallen near where Dorian had landed. He looked up at the hanging pack and sighed. That'd likely be the one with the food in it.
So he climbed painstakingly up the rough wall, scaring himself often by grabbing or stepping on something crumbly. He reached the pack, barely managing to unhook it without falling again. Then he discovered that while going up had been unpleasant, going down the rock wall was pure misery, especially in the bulky Pilgrim's Robe.
"Don't you dare fall again," Osval called. "I've just managed to make this place bearable. You'd pull down half the mountain."
Dorian reached a reasonable jumping off point and did so, landing on the ledge with a thud and a wince. But he had the pack.
And he had Osval, holding him close and kissing hiim.
"You shouldn't give me heart failure like that," Osval chided. "I don't want to lose you now that I've finally got you."
"No fear of that," Dorian said, around another kiss. Who would have believed the joy contained in such a simple physical caress? "I'm not going anywhere. Especially not the rest of the way off the mountain. Not until we get free of this place, anyway."
Osval stiffened. "And what then? What future do you see then, and am I in it?"
"That depends." Dorian ran his fingers through Osval's hair, learning the texture. "Are you willing to take a trip with me? Because I see little future for us here. Now that you've finally caught me out, forced me to admit that all I want to do is spend my life wallowing in sin here in your arms, I see little chance of making a good life here in Bandor. Will you come away with me? Will you leave all this behind and seek out a new life, one where we can be together?"
Osval smiled. His eyes shone with love. "You truly need to ask that? Of course I will come with you, Dori, wherever you go. You've been at the center of my life for far too long now for me to just give up and walk away from you."
"Good. Then I see a wonderful future for us, together. One where you and I can live each day without fear, without hiding."
The last of the day's light faded around them as they melted into each other's arms, ending the life of hidden desires, fear, and sin. What would the morning bring? Bright hope, and the warmth of love, for certain. Let the old life die with the night.
* * * *
Other titles from Marie Brown:
Closer To The Stars
Prince of the Northlands, Vol 1
Larantyne
Prince of the Northlands, Vol 2
Apprentice
Breaking Traditions, Vol 1
In Service Of The Light
Breaking Traditions, Vol 2
and many more
Visit the author online at
the Evil Kitten Project
