[Narrowing Path 00] - The Cruel Path

by Normoyle, David J.

  I shrugged. “You flatter yourself. I’ve not taken much note of you.” I didn’t want to follow whatever script Arion had practiced in his mind.

  Arion licked his top lip. Then he extended his left hand, palm up, showing two Paradise Givers. “You know how this goes.”

  “Not the way you want it to. I’m not going to take part in your game.”

  “You seem to think you have a choice,” Arion said. “This sword is quite sharp, and that is real blood on your neck.”

  I hadn’t realized the skin had been broken. I wiped my finger on my neck and examined the blood. It looked blue under Helion’s purple light. “I don’t value this as much as I value other things. Things you don’t understand, like friendship and brotherhood.”

  “Your brothers don’t want you dead.”

  “No, but it might be for the best. Only two of us will make it.”

  Arion pocketed the Paradise Givers and pulled the sword from my shoulder and tapped the flat of the blade against the side of his leg. “How noble. You’re willing to sacrifice yourself. You’re right, I don’t understand brotherhood if that’s what it means.”

  I thought about trying to run now that Arion had removed the blade from my shoulder, but I knew he was faster than me. If I were to beat him tonight, it wouldn’t be in a footrace.

  “You forget, of course,” Arion continued, “that if I was to kill you I would move ahead of the Triplets in the lists. So your sacrifice would be in vain.”

  “If you killed me in your poison game, you would rise above us,” I replied. “Just killing me with a sword, I’m not so sure.”

  Arion smiled. His confidence was unshaken. “Do you know I’ve had a fear of death from a young age?” he asked. “Well, that is inaccurate. I first remember the fear from when I was five and in the Refuge for the first time. My mother was left behind to take Paradise’s Kiss with the other ascora whose husbands had found replacements for them.”

  “Is this where I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure how I knew the method of my mother’s death, but I always equated death with Paradise’s Kiss. After several years of continual nightmares, my fear changed into a fascination. With death and also with the poison that the ascor choose to avoid the flames of the Infernam.”

  I mock yawned. “This is all terribly interesting, but if you’re going to kill me, I’d prefer if you would get on with it.”

  “My fascination with the poison led me to know all there was to know about it and the Paradise Givers. The one I gave to Grayer that day long ago was not the only one in my possession then.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “You were behind it all along?”

  “Grayer proved rather easy to manipulate.”

  “And you knew the Paradise Giver wasn’t completely free of poison? That it needed to be cleaned?”

  Arion grinned. “Of course. Where would the fun be otherwise? I was interested to learn the effect of such a tiny amount of Paradise’s Kiss. My only regret is that I couldn’t watch to see how close to death Frodan came. You and your brother were always in the room with him while he was sick.”

  Blood pounded through my temples and I lurched forward. Arion took a step back and raised his sword, pointing it at my chest, forcing me to stop.

  “You know how you can get your revenge.” Arion touched my chest with the tip of his sword.

  I forced myself to calm. I couldn’t let myself stay angry and react irrationally. Arion was trying to bait me. He liked manipulating people, and I couldn’t let my emotions rule me and do what he wanted. Though I was willing to let him kill me if it meant my two brothers survived—I wasn’t lying about that—I wasn’t sure that was my right move. Perhaps if I were killed by Arion’s sword it would be enough to push him ahead of my brothers. And if not, what if Arion searched out either Frodan or Sorani after? In that case, my brother would have no choice but to play this game of Arion’s, and they hadn’t studied Arion like I had. They didn’t know him from the mole under his chin to his habit of leaving a candle burning when he went to sleep.

  “I always suspected you knew,” I said. I tried to let rage flow through my words. “You are going to die for what you did to Frodan. Bring out your Paradise Givers.” I wanted to make Arion think I was letting my anger get the better of me. Around us, a few people leaving the tavern had noticed our encounter. They hung back and watched.

  Arion’s tongue snaked out and back in again. He lowered the sword and reached into his pocket and retrieved the Paradise Givers. The two rings were like a pair of evil eyes looking up at me from Arion’s palm. They were identical as far as I could see. I hovered my hand over each in turn, watching Arion’s eyes as I did so. His gaze showed nothing except amusement. It was as if he didn’t care which one I took.

  I took the nearest one after a moment, careful not to touch the spike. “How does this work?” I asked.

  “One ring contains Paradise’s Kiss, the other contains not even the residue of the poison. We each put on a ring and we clasp arms, such that we are simultaneously piercing each other’s arm. Before we clasp, I will give you the chance to change your mind.”

  “Okay.” Is that the trick to it? I wondered. Did he intend to manipulate his reactions to fool me into making the wrong choice about whether to change or not. Was that why he didn’t care which I selected?

  I put the ring on my finger and extended my arm. He did the same. Once again, I watched his gaze. Once again I could read absolutely nothing useful there. Moments passed while we stood there frozen, arms almost touching, me staring at him with utmost concentration and a bead of sweat sliding down the center of my forehead, him staring back with unconcealed amusement. How could he be not the remotest bit worried?

  I pulled back my arm. “I want to swap,” I said. It was simply to give me more time to think; I had learned nothing.

  “As you wish.” He pulled back his arm and took off the ring and offered it to me with the same unconcern. I fumbled slightly as I pulled the ring off my finger. I needed more time. There was a puzzle here and I had only moments to solve it.

  I had to assume that it didn’t matter which ring I was wearing. But every time Arion had played this game, his opponent had died of poison and he had not. How? I recalled an outlandish theory presented by one of the newsbards that both rings contained the poison and Arion had developed immunity, but I’d seen the effect of the smallest trace of Paradise’s Kiss and knew that to be impossible.

  I pulled off the ring and handed it over. Arion took it and gave me the other. I studied Arion from head to toe, ignoring his face this time, looking for any clue. And there was something strange about his clothes that I only now noticed. Over his tunic he was wearing a shoulder shawl, a covering that came halfway down his forearm and was tied around the neck. It was fashionable among the ascor lately, but I had never known Arion to care about fashion. And it was so hot now that no one in their right mind would wear more than one layer.

  Another thought hit me. Arion had fished in his pockets twice for those rings. He was cautious and calculating—would he risk the needle of one of the Paradise Givers grazing his skin if there was poison in it? Then I remembered something else from the newsbards’ stories. Like a puzzle almost solved, the pieces were now tumbling into place. Each time Arion had clasped hands with a victim, he’d initially stumbled, pretending to have been stung by the poisoned ring.

  As I reached out my arm once more, I studied the shoulder shawl Arion wore, and quickly focused on two buttons sewed onto each shoulder. I shifted my head to the side, and then I saw it. A small needle emerging from the button on the right shoulder. That was the true Paradise Giver—the only poison was in that, the rings were both empty. Each time Arion had stumbled, pretending to be dying, he’d nudged his victim with his shoulder.

  Arion’s right hand was extended, and instead of clasping it I grabbed Arion’s fingers and jerked them upward. “For Frodan,” I whispered. He didn’t
have time to resist. The back of his hand hit the button and I let his arm fall back down again. His eyes widened.

  I now clasped his arm and felt the sting of the Paradise Giver ring puncture my skin. I didn’t fear it, though. I was confident that I had solved the puzzle and won. I took a long step back, however, for I wasn’t confident that Arion wouldn’t try to take revenge with his sword before the poison took hold.

  But Arion didn’t react. He just stood there, showing no fear or anger. His eyes were unfocused. I imagined that he was looking inward, trying to study the effects of the poison within his body. He was fascinated with the poison and with death, and was just now getting a few unrepeatable moments to experience both. I became aware that around us a large crowd had gathered, including at least one newsbard. They were waiting, expectant, and I realized they either hadn’t noticed the fast upward jerk of Arion’s arm or hadn’t figured out its meaning. They were waiting to see which of us would fall.

  Arion licked his top lip one last time and slumped to the ground. A gasp arose from the watching crowd, but no one approached. They were probably waiting to see if that was the end of it. Part of Arion’s trick was to pretend to be poisoned, after all.

  I went to where Arion lay. He was still breathing shallowly, but wouldn’t be for long. I didn’t feel pity for him, like I did for Vainn. Arion had gotten what he deserved. I slipped the Paradise Giver from his finger and took the shoulder shawl from him and carefully folded it so that the needle didn’t prick me. I wanted to show Frodan and Sorani the tricks of Arion’s ascent and descent on the Path. It would make the story so much better.

  I walked away from Arion’s dying body with the crowd of onlookers still wondering if I, too, would yet stumble and fall.

  Chapter 9

  I was bursting to tell Frodan and Sorani what had happened when I returned to them that evening. But I found them sitting close together with matching glum faces.

  I put down Arion’s folded shawl. “What happened?” I felt sure something must have gone horribly wrong.

  Frodan had tears in his eyes as he looked up at me. “We’ve been avoiding it for too long. Sorani and I finally managed to talk freely. We have to deal with it.”

  “Oh.” I sat down beside Frodan, my elation gone in an instant. My victory with Arion hadn’t changed that. We were still three, and only two of us could make it.

  “We decided we couldn’t just do nothing and let the Guardians pick one of us,” Sorani said. “We are brothers, and it’s up to us to decide as a family.”

  I knew this moment had to come, but I wished I could have had a short time to savor with them what I’d just achieved. Each victory along the Path had been celebrated less each time. “I don’t suppose this matters all that much now, but Arion caught up with me just now. He forced me to take part in his game of poisoned Paradise Givers. I won.”

  Frodan blinked. “Arion is dead? You just killed him?”

  “He was still breathing when I left him, but Paradise’s Kiss doesn’t take long. I’m sure he’s dead by now.” My voice was dejected.

  Sorani brightened. “That’s gre...” He trailed off. “Doesn’t change much, I guess.”

  “I think it does,” Frodan said. “It means that Eolnar is a certainty to win selection. We are not just the Triplets anymore.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Frodan stood up. “Everything we’ve done so far has been together. That has been one of our problems in getting selected. We haven’t been differentiated on the lists. The Guardians would simply have to select one of us at random or skip over us. But now Eolnar has single-handedly defeated another top-ten Green at his own game. That will push him up high enough to guarantee his selection.”

  “No.” I shook my head harder this time. “Just because this pushes me ahead of you on the lists doesn’t mean that I should have more chance of making the Refuge. We are equal; we have always been equal. It’s just random chance that Arion found me first instead of one of you.”

  “Frodan’s right,” Sorani said. “So what if it is chance? It’s better than drawing straws to see which one of us lives or dies. If myself or Frodan were declared Elect, we might get the selection, but now you definitely will.”

  “No.” I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to be put unfairly ahead of my brothers, either.

  “Yes.” Sorani stood up beside Frodan. “This was never going to be an easy decision. At least the first part of it is now decided.”

  “It is decided,” Frodan intoned before I had a chance to object again. Those words on top of what Sorani had said seemed to make it official. Irrevocable.

  My face slumped into my hands and tears came to my eyes. Although I had just been given a wonderful gift by my brothers, they were tears of sorrow, not joy.

  “Now comes the harder decision,” Sorani said. “Which of us two do you choose?”

  I looked up in astonishment. They surely knew that I could never make that decision. If I was an Elect, then it was in name only.

  “Pick me, pick me.” Frodan waved his hand in the air.

  I couldn’t help a small smile.

  “No, Eolnar has to set us tasks over the next two days, and whichever of us performs them better wins. I could wash his feet, for instance,” Sorani said. He and Frodan now had wide grins.

  “Stop making jokes, brothers,” I mockingly admonished. “Laughing at a time like this is inappropriate.”

  “While my younger brother is washing Eolnar’s feet, I’ll clean this place from top to bottom. Much more useful skill to have in a slave—ah, I mean Chosen.” Frodan spun across the room, pretending to clean up. He stopped when he saw Arion’s folded shoulder shawl. “What’s this?”

  “Careful.” I rose to take it from him in case he accidentally pricked himself. “I have the Paradise Givers from Arion’s game.”

  I unwrapped the shawl and showed Frodan the rings. He carefully took one and studied it. “Maybe this is how we should make our decision.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Frodan turned to Sorani. “What do you say, brother, shall we have a duel with the Paradise Givers? The winner takes Eolnar’s side as his Chosen, the loser gets to visit paradise early and wait for his brothers to join him later.”

  “No, no, no. That won’t work,” I said.

  “I agree,” Sorani said. “I was afraid we’d end up doing something boring like drawing straws. This way, it ends here tonight, one way or the other.”

  “No, you two don’t understand. This won’t work. The game is a trick.”

  “Of course it’s a trick,” Frodan said. “And you discovered it. Now it’s our turn to see if we can figure it out.”

  “Let me explain the twist to this game and you’ll see why it won’t work,” I protested.

  “No,” Sorani said. “Don’t explain it. This is how we’ve decided to handle it. Unless you want to adopt the Elect position in more than name and actually choose one of us.”

  “You know I’d never do that.”

  “Well, then.” Sorani held out his hand. “Give me the other Paradise Giver.”

  I shrugged. “As you wish.” I handed it over. I figured they’d both end up pricking each other with the empty rings and that would be the end of it.

  “Now set things up as Arion did, and we’ll see if one of us can figure it out,” Frodan said.

  I sighed, then threw the shawl over my shoulders and tied it around my neck. They’d need to see the button on the shawl to have any chance of figuring it out.

  “Describe what happened,” Sorani said. “But don’t tell us what you figured out. Let us work things out for ourselves.” Gone were the laughing and joking now. Sorani’s voice was deadly serious.

  So I told them how Arion had made me choose one of the rings and then offered the chance to swap them.

  “So what do you say, brother?” Frodan asked Sorani. “We’ve picked up the rings at random, now comes the choice. Do
we swap?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sorani said. He watched my eyes while he moved the ring toward Frodan and back. “It’s hard to decide.” I realized that Frodan was also carefully studying me. They were both repeating what I had done on Arion, trying to get a read on me as they wavered over swapping or not. I would have smiled if they both didn’t have such serious expressions.

  “I say we don’t swap,” Frodan said, slipping on his ring. “What do you say?”

  Sorani slipped on his ring. “I agree.” They were both watching me instead of each other. “What happened then?” Sorani asked.

  I couldn’t tell them that I had slapped Arion’s hand against his own shoulder—that would give away the trick. “Then we clasped arms. In the end, he was poisoned and I wasn’t.”

  “There’s something you aren’t telling us,” Frodan said. “But that’s okay, you figured it out, and now it’s our turn.” He turned to Sorani. “Are you ready, brother?”

  “Wait,” Sorani said. “Eolnar’s a part of this. Come closer and stand by us. Both standing brothers can catch the falling one.”

  I approached to stand closer, wondering what would be their reaction when neither of them was poisoned.

  “Stand over on the other side of us.” Sorani pulled me by the sleeve and directed me to his other side. As he did so, he shot me a significant glance.

  I was confused as I did so, wondering about Sorani’s meaning. But when I took my new position, I understood. Standing on Sorani’s right-hand side put my right shoulder beside Frodan and not beside him. Sorani was telling me that he had figured out Arion’s trick.

  “We do it now,” Frodan said, holding out his arm.

  “We decide this now,” Sorani shouted back, reaching out to clasp his brother’s arm. As he did so, he gave me a nudge and a nod of the head.

  The nudge pushed my right shoulder closer to Frodan.

  “Now,” Frodan shouted.

  “Now,” Sorani shouted.

  As their hands made contact, Frodan jerked toward me. It only required the slightest of motions from me, because I was already moving toward Frodan. I deliberately dipped my shoulder and touched it against Frodan’s upper arm.