The Collapsing Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 3)

by David J Normoyle

“At this stage, it doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not,” Finshire said. “The news is spreading as if it’s truth. Both escay and ascor have accepted it as fact.”

  Bowe turned to Finshire. “I thought I paid you to keep control of the news regarding the Bellangers.”

  “And I thought you were the legitimate Bellanger Guardian,” Finshire said. “I think my contract with you has been terminated as of last night. In any case there was little I could do. I’ve told you that the news can take a life of its own, and today that was truer than ever. The bastion of ascor power was brought down by the Eye fighter-turned-rebel, the ascor who was born an escay, and the ascor who became an escay. It’d be impossible to invent a more compelling narrative.”

  The healer, who had been examining Tealman, straightened and began to walk out.

  Bowe moved to intercept him. “Where are you going?”

  The healer paused. “Wasting as little time on this ridiculousness as I can. There’s clearly nothing I can do.”

  “I won’t accept that.” No one got to be old in Arcandis without being very good at what they did. “You are the best healer in Arcandis. I know you can save him.”

  “His hips are broken. He’ll never walk again.”

  “That doesn’t mean he has to die.”

  “Cripples don’t get into the Refuge, and the Infernam is near.”

  “I know one cripple who lived through many Infernams. You say he’ll never walk, but what about his arms?”

  “Both shoulders are dislocated. The pain of forcing them back into their sockets would be terrible. The man has suffered enough.”

  “Just fix his arms. I’ll pay whatever it takes.”

  The healer slapped Bowe across the mouth. “Don’t insult me with talk of money. You think I wouldn’t save him if I thought there was a chance?”

  He touched his stinging cheek. “There is a chance.” What was one more lie? Bowe couldn’t let Tealman just die.

  “There’s no guarantee he’ll regain usage of his arms. Nor is there any certainty that his fever will break.”

  “He has a daughter. I want to give him every chance to see her grow up.”

  “On your head be it if we are torturing this man for no reason.” The healer bent down over Tealman and pulled off his blanket. “I’ll need some help.”

  “Bowe.” Sindar grabbed his arm. “Are you sure you are doing this for him and not for yourself?” He leaned close so the healer couldn’t hear. “He wants to die.”

  Sindar assumed that Bowe was doing this because he couldn’t take another person dying as a result of his own actions, his betrayals. “It’s for his daughter,” Bowe insisted, shaking off Sindar’s hand and moving to help the healer.

  “Lie across his chest,” the healer told Bowe. “Hold him steady.” Bowe spread himself across Tealman’s torso.

  Even through both sets of clothes, Bowe could feel the heat of Tealman’s fevered skin. Under the healer’s direction, Sindar gripped Tealman’s upper right arm.

  “When I give the word, lift his arm toward his head. As hard and quick as you are able,” the healer told Sindar, feeling along the shoulder joint.

  Bowe braced himself.

  “Now.”

  Sindar jerked the arm upward and there was a crack, then Tealman was screaming, a high-pitched, heart-rending scream that went on and on. He bucked violently, almost strong enough to dislodge Bowe, but Bowe held on.

  “Please, no more,” Tealman sobbed. “I don’t know any secrets. I helped the Guild but that was years ago. I don’t know anything. Just let me die.”

  The healer shifted around to the other side of his patient. “Quick, let’s do the other arm and get this over with.”

  Sindar took hold of Tealman’s right arm, and yanked it upward when the healer was ready. Another crack. This time Bowe was thrown off as Tealman convulsed and scrambled back on top of him. The scream ripped through Bowe’s ears. Then the sobbing returned. “It’s too much. Oh, Helion, let me die.”

  The healer swiftly ran his hands over both shoulders, then stood with a satisfied grunt. “Make him drink whenever possible. If the fever breaks, give him solid food. Anything he can hold down.” He seemed about to say something to Bowe, but instead just left. Finshire went after him.

  Bowe could guess what the healer had been about to say. If he didn’t make it, Bowe was responsible for the man’s additional suffering. Finshire and Sindar would have similar thoughts.

  Tealman had calmed enough for Bowe to ease himself off the escay. Tears leaked from the sides of Tealman’s eyes. Bowe turned away, unable to look anymore, and only then became aware that another person had entered the room. Oamir.

  “Are Thrace and Sorrin with you?” Bowe asked, wondering if this was the moment he’d be captured and taken before the Guardians.

  Oamir shook his head. “No. Zofila told me not to seek them out. She told me just to find you and tell you about the Refuge. She also told me...” He searched his mind for the words. “To forgive her, but she had to remain loyal to the one she loved.” He sniffed. “She went to Lessard Mansion.”

  Bowe wanted to cry, but he was too empty inside even for that. She asked him for forgiveness when it was he who had done the unforgivable. “You took care of her last night.”

  “Yes. While our house burned down.” He shook his head, clearly still trying to come to terms with what happened. “Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of Arcandis.”

  Oamir had wanted to tell him something earlier, Bowe remembered, and Bowe hadn’t stopped to listen. Now Zofila asked Bowe to hear what Oamir had to say. Bowe had to ask, although he couldn't help but feel that nothing really mattered anymore. Not to him at least. “What did you have to tell me?” The words toppled from his mouth like dead things. Now that Tealman had seen the healer, Bowe wanted to return to solitude and darkness.

  “We can fit more people in the Refuge than we thought,” Oamir said.

  “Explain.”

  “I mapped out the tunnels, getting accurate numbers of people and supplies in different sections. Various marshals helped me. And I checked it against the numbers who are due to be let in, and there’s room for more. With the destruction of the Bellanger family, then its re-creation, there’s been a bit of variation in the quotas of each family. I know you want to save all you can, so I thought you’d want to know.”

  A spark of life returned to Bowe. Letting more people into the Refuge each Infernam—could it be that simple? How many could Bowe save? “What’s going on at the Refuge at the moment?”

  “It’s practically empty,” Oamir said.

  “But it’s only fourteen days until the Infernam. Shouldn’t preparations be in full swing? I thought you told me it all happened automatically,” Bowe said.

  “In normal circumstances, yes. But after a few groups of farmers were attacked, the rest have stopped before reaching the city. There’s a camp of some kind outside the walls.”

  If there weren’t enough food and water in the Refuge by the time the Infernam came, thousands would die inside the caves. If there weren’t enough seeds and young livestock, there would be famine after the Infernam. Bowe had feared that the chaos of an escay rebellion close to an Infernam would have devastating effects, and so it was proving.

  “You said there was unused space in the Refuge. Could everyone fit in?” Bowe asked Oamir.

  “Every who?”

  “Everyone alive in Arcandis. Say no one goes out on the suicide barges or takes Paradise’s Kiss.”

  Oamir raised his eyebrows. “No way. I’m only taking about a few dozen extra places. There would be thousands, maybe tens of thousands too many for that.”

  The hope that had blossomed within Bowe faded. Needing to restrict entry into the Refuge every sexennium was the foundation of all Arcandis’s problems. If the Guardians and their marshals didn’t make the necessary decisions, then some other way would be needed. If it were left to a free-for-all, there would be fighting, and
only the strongest would gain entry. Perhaps Hess would favor such a system.

  And if there was fighting to get in, most likely that violence would continue inside the Refuge, breaking the traditional cooperation. No, that would be a disaster. What Bowe needed was a way for everyone to get a place. It seemed impossible but had anyone really tried?

  At the very least, Bowe had something to strive for. A life beyond being Bellanger Guardian. “There’s a lot of people who want me dead right now. So I’m not sure that my life expectancy is that high,” Bowe told Sindar and Oamir. “But while I’m alive, I’ll do what I can to restore order to the process of getting the Refuge ready for the Infernam.”

  Sindar shook his head. “There you go, back to thinking the world revolves around you again. I had hoped that knocking you off that pompous perch of yours could be the one good thing to come from the burning down of our mansion.” Sindar put his arm around Oamir’s shoulders. “Oamir and I will sort out this Refuge issue. And if Bowe Bellanger climbs down from the clouds, we might let him help us.”

  “Oamir is essential, of course,” Bowe said. “But I don’t know what use you’ll be, thief. There’s no need for silver dessert spoons in the Refuge.”

  Sindar whipped the spoon out of his pocket and brandished it in front of Bowe’s face. “I won’t have my spoon-stealing skills joked about. Not in front of the spoon. On guard, blackguard.” Sindar slashed left then right with his spoon before tapping Bowe on the head with it.

  Bowe’s chuckle was interrupted by a fevered shout from Tealman, which sobered both of them.

  “Let’s figure out what needs to be done,” Bowe said.

  Chapter 13

  13 Days Left

  Bowe tripped over a branch and tumbled to the ground, cursing. He spat out leaves and dirt. The dirt was warm; even under tree cover, the sun had baked the ground. Just another reminder, if any was needed, that the Infernam was close. Too close.

  A laugh boomed out, a laugh that Bowe recognized well. It wasn’t exactly the first person Bowe wanted to meet, but at least he would get to stop stumbling around the forest. “How’s Urdo?” Bowe stood and pulled a twig from his hair.

  Urdo appeared out of the underbrush, accompanied by two men. “You should ask, rather, how’s Big Boona.” Urdo hefted his axe. “And Big Boona is glad to be meeting little man again. Big Boona is thirsty.”

  “If you could just take me to Meelyn first, I’d appreciate it. If she wants me dead, I’m sure she’ll give the job to Big Boona.” Urdo had an irrational dislike for Bowe and an irrational like for talking to his battle-axe. But he wouldn’t kill Bowe without Meelyn’s say-so. Or so Bowe hoped.

  “Maybe Big Boona gets a little taste first. Little man has fed us all full of lies.”

  “You might have to carry me again if I’m injured. And there haven’t been any lies. Maybe misunderstandings.”

  Urdo grunted, then pointed the spike of his axe toward a gap between two skinny trees. Bowe took that as a direction. Urdo fell in beside Bowe, holstering the axe on his back. He glanced at Bowe’s knife but didn’t mention it, dismissing the threat. Urdo’s companions fell in behind.

  “Funny watching little man sneaking through the trees. Like a fish flopping about on land.”

  “I wasn’t trying to sneak,” Bowe said. “I was trying to find your camp.”

  “For most of us, walking without falling over is easy. We learn as babies. For little man, it is harder? All those awkward branches on the ground.”

  Bowe didn’t exactly want to banter with Urdo, but it was better than being hit over the head by his axe. Just about.

  “I—” At that exact moment, Bowe’s toe caught on the uneven ground and he stumbled, and his retort died on his lips.

  Urdo’s laugh boomed out. “See. Like a baby, little man can’t walk yet.” Urdo twisted his head back to share laughter with the two behind.

  “Why do you call me ‘little man’?” Bowe asked. “Surely everyone is a little person to you. And I can’t be the shortest man you have met.”

  “Urdo doesn’t decide on the names, he just knows. Just like he knows Big Boona’s name is Big Boona and that she likes to drink, he knows little man’s name is little man.”

  Bowe was saved from further circular logic from Urdo by their arrival in a large, sprawling camp. They passed by several tents in one small clearing then had to step around a wagon, passing through another copse of trees before arriving into a bigger clearing. Trees and underbrush had been cut down, but even with that space was limited. Further groups of tents and wagons were spread further out among the trees.

  “Wait here.” Urdo went looking for Meelyn.

  The two other bandits stood behind Bowe—as guards, Bowe guessed, though he wasn’t sure why he was expected to escape. He had come to find the camp. Sindar had wanted to accompany him, but Bowe decided it was better that he go to the Refuge with Oamir and prepare for their arrival. Bowe hadn’t said it, but he was a marked man and traveling with him was dangerous. He didn’t want anyone else’s death at his door.

  Urdo returned with Meelyn and Rianel.

  “You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” Meelyn said.

  “I have rarely lacked nerve,” Bowe replied. “Good sense, on the other hand, I’ve had a terrible problem with.” He turned toward Rianel. “I know it’s been a few years now, but I wanted to wish you my condolences on the loss of your father. He was a good man.” Bowe had secretly worked as a scribe for Jakelin, Rianel’s father, and though that relationship had managed to regain the Bellanger influence with the marshals who helped rule the countryside.

  Rianel offered a begrudging nod.

  “Urdo was telling me that I’m considered a liar,” Bowe said.

  “You promised us all places in the Refuge,” Meelyn said. “In return, we helped you. We stopped raiding and started protecting those who lived in the countryside of Arcandis.” Meelyn gestured at the camp. “We are still doing that.”

  “And your places in the Refuge are waiting for you,” Bowe told her.

  “More lies from the little man,” Urdo said.

  “We hear news from the city,” Rianel said. “You were never a Bellanger. You never had the right to make any promises. Everything you did was based on false pretenses. We’d have been better off remaining under Grenier control.”

  “I didn’t know all this was going to happen,” Bowe said. “My promises haven’t turned out as planned, but I haven’t failed you yet. I’m not ducking my responsibilities concerning getting everyone here into the Infernam. I’m here to explain how it is possible.”

  “He’s here for more promises and more lies,” Urdo said.

  Bowe shook his head. “I can’t make any promises. You all know that I am no longer Bellanger Guardian, and I will never have that power again. As Bellanger Guardian, I had places in the Refuge set aside for you”—Bowe nodded at Rianel—“and all the farmers and others who worked hard in the countryside all sexennium, and you”—Bowe nodded at Meelyn—“and all your bandits-turned-protectors. In addition, I had places set aside for all those working in Bellanger Mansion, and those who were injured in the Battle of Pots and Pans, plus many others.”

  “And now?” Rianel wanted to know.

  “Now I have no promises. But I do have a vision. An opportunity,” Bowe said. “Let’s talk about how we can all survive this Infernam together.”

  “Or we can let Big Boona taste his blood,” Urdo suggested. “He said himself he has no power. He’ll offer us more empty air in place of his previous promises.”

  “It’s chaos in the streets of Arcandis,” Rianel said. “And time is running out, with the Infernam fast approaching. It’s a total disaster. How can you call that an opportunity?”

  “Certainly things have changed. For the worse or better is yet to be decided.”

  Rianel shook his head. “It’s clearly for the worse. At least before, those who worked hard and did the right thing knew their place was guaranteed. One o
f the women who sleeps close to me couldn’t stop sobbing most of last night. She has six children.”

  “The uncertainty is scary, I agree,” Bowe said. “But we have to see beyond that to the possibilities.”

  “Easy to say for one who doesn’t have a family,” Urdo said.

  “I have a family.”

  “A family that you burned to the ground.”

  That wasn’t exactly true, but it cut close to the bone. Bowe gave Urdo a scowl, which he accepted with a wide grin and a stroke on the blade of his axe.

  “The Refuge still awaits,” Bowe said. “The old system is gone, and the new one has to be formed, a new system that will shape Arcandis in generations to come. It could be shaped by Hess’s teeth, or by Urdo’s battle-axe, or maybe by”—Bowe remembered the woman in the Fortress who insisted on each of the escaping prisoners helping others. It was only the latest of many examples—“escay kindness.”

  Urdo brandished the axe. “I’ve yet to see an emotion that this can’t cut through.”

  “It’s not so simple. It wouldn’t be so easy for you to put Big Boona through Meelyn’s neck, Urdo. And it’s not because of the dullness of your blade.”

  It was Urdo’s turn to scowl.

  “Still,” Meelyn said. “I wouldn’t bet against the Eye fighter’s bite, or the battle-axe.”

  “Perhaps. And you do have axes if it comes to that.” Bowe was sure that had already occurred to Meelyn. “Unlike previous times, no one knows for sure what will happen during the Infernam, or after. It might be decided in moments like this, as those who care for sections of Arcandis society makes or doesn’t make decisions. And I don’t want to work toward a Refuge guarded by swords or axes. I recently learned that all the space in the Refuge wasn’t used efficiently. It got me thinking, what if we could fit everyone in?”

  Urdo snorted. “More lies.”

  “We all know how crowded the Refuge becomes,” Rianel said. “I can see a handful more fitting in. But everyone? Clearly impossible.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Bowe said. “Like I said earlier, I can’t make any promises. Consider that there have been several deadly battles in Arcandis this sexennium. There may be less pressure on getting in than we expect. And isn’t it better to focus our energies on trying to get as many people as possible inside rather than focusing on how to restrict people?”