The Treacherous Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 2)

by David J Normoyle

Bowe was concentrating so hard in putting one foot in front of the other without stumbling that he walked straight into Iyra’s back. He stumbled back a step, put his weight onto his right foot and swayed slightly. “We stopping for the night?” He tried and failed to keep the weariness and anticipation from his voice.

  “Hush. There’s someone out there.”

  Bowe listened. He knew he should be worried; it could be that the Grenier marshals had found him already, but he was too exhausted to care. He wasn’t capable of running away or putting up any resistance right now, so he simply waited for what was to come. If it was the marshals, he just hoped they’d do him the favor of killing him here rather than making him walk all the way back to Arcandis.

  A giant of a man swaggered into view in front of Iyra. Leaves rustled all around them, and Bowe turned to see that they were completely surrounded by a mixture of men and women. They were a ragged bunch; everyone wore ill-fitting and badly stitched-together clothes. They bore a mixture of weapons: swords, axes, farm implements.

  The giant squinted at Iyra. “Do I recognize you?” He had a long beard, bright red hair, and a voice like rocks grinding together.

  “You’ve met me plenty of times,” Iyra replied. “Urdo, right?”

  Urdo turned to the woman closest to him. “You know her, Betta?”

  Betta was a middle-aged woman with tangled hair and brown-stained teeth. “She’s in the Guild. Brought a few messages when she was younger. Hasn’t visited in a while.”

  “If it’s okay, we’ll be on our way.” Iyra began to walk past Urdo. “We’ve still plenty of distance to travel before the sun sets.”

  Bowe hoped Iyra wasn’t serious about intending to travel much farther. He shifted his weight from one side to the other to ease the ache in his legs.

  “Wait a minute.” Urdo put out an arm to block Iyra’s path. “What about your friend there? He one of your lot, too?”

  “More or less,” Iyra said.

  “Didn’t know there was any ‘more or less’ about being in the Guild,” Urdo said. “Once you’re in, you’re in for good. Only way out is through the Fortress torture chambers or via the underwater bay currents.” He laughed as if he’d said something remarkably funny.

  “So, tell me,” Urdo addressed Bowe, “are you in the Guild?”

  Bowe hesitated. He was too tired to think straight.

  “I didn’t think so.” Urdo lowered his arm and pointed at Iyra. “I’ll let you go.” He pointed at Bowe. “Him I’ll bring back, and let her decide what to do with him.”

  That sounded like it could involve more walking. Bowe shook his head. “No, I’m not going with you. You’re in over your head, big guy. Just step aside and we’ll be on our way.”

  The man didn’t seem that smart and Bowe though he might respond to direct commands. He did respond, just not the way Bowe had hoped. His hand snaked down to the axe at his belt, and he took a long stride forward. Bowe took a half step back but that was as far as he got. Urdo used the upswing from drawing his axe to clip Bowe across the side of the head and Bowe slumped to the ground.

  Urdo laughed and returned the axe to the belt loop. “You go down easy, little man. You talk big, but you’ve nothing to back it up.”

  I have the power of an Arcandis Guardian to back it up, Bowe thought, but he didn’t, not anymore. Bowe didn’t feel any pain, just lightheaded.

  “Now get up.” Urdo nudged Bowe in the chest with his toe. “I’m taking you back with me.”

  “Fine, take him,” Iyra said. “I don’t really care. I’m just his guide. I’m not here to fight for him.” She continued down the trail.

  Urdo ignored her. “Get up, I said.”

  Bowe clambered to his feet, but fell down again.

  “The little man can’t even stand. He’s nothing but a baby who thinks it’s a man.” He nudged him again in the chest, harder this time.

  Bowe wasn’t sure why the ground was so unsteady. He used his hands to support him and carefully pushed himself into a standing position.

  “That way.” Urdo pointed to the left, toward a gap between two trees.

  Bowe turned to look, but his head just flopped to the side. His neck felt like it was made of water. He tried to walk, but only his torso moved; his feet stayed planted to the ground. He fell face first into the mud. He flopped his head to the side so he could breathe, but didn’t try to get up.

  “Fool can’t even walk now.” Urdo gave Bowe a kick in the side, but Bowe barely felt it.

  “You can carry him,” Betta said. “Teach you to crack skulls first and think after.”

  Urdo laughed. “Ain’t nothing going to teach me that. I’ll carry him, why not? He’s only a little man.”

  Urdo bent down and pushed his arms under Bowe. He lifted Bowe and threw him over his shoulder. Bowe felt like a doll because of how easily Urdo picked him up and also the way his limbs flopped about. Bowe felt a lurch forward as Urdo took a long stride, then a jolt backward when Urdo’s foot landed. His stomach swirled. Another lurch, another jolt. Betta walked alongside Urdo, though she had to take two strides for every one he took; the rest of Urdo’s followers fell in behind them.

  Bowe lifted his head to look beyond Urdo’s followers but Iyra was gone. He couldn’t blame her; she hadn’t wanted to be his guide and this was her chance to get out of it. He had no right to expect any help beyond the minimum, given how he’d treated her three years ago. Bowe wasn’t sure there was much she could do in any case; Urdo was a force of nature.

  Bowe let his head fall back down. With every one of Urdo’s steps, Bowe had to endure the corresponding lurch forward, jolt back, and a stomach spasm. He wasn’t sure how much of this he could take, and he didn’t like to think about what would be done to him if he got sick down Urdo’s back.

  On the ground behind Urdo’s feet, several leaves had a splash of red across them. Bowe’s eyes drifted closed.

  “Hey, wait. What in Helion is wrong with you? You can’t just carry an injured person like that.”

  Bowe opened his eyes and lifted his head to see Iyra sprinting after them.

  “Seems I can do it,” Urdo didn’t stop. “If you want proof, just watch me.”

  “He’s bleeding badly. I could see that from fifty paces back.” Iyra panted as she caught up with Urdo. “He’ll be dead before you get him back.”

  Urdo’s shoulders rolled, which Bowe figured was the giant shrugging. “People die.”

  “Your instincts to bring him with you were correct. Your boss will want to talk to him; he could be useful to you. But turning him into a corpse doesn’t help anyone.”

  “She’s right,” Betta said. “Don’t be any more of a dumb fool than you have to be.”

  Bowe was yanked off of Urdo’s shoulder and dropped on the ground. He landed on his side, and this time his stomach couldn’t hold it together. He vomited on the ground.

  Urdo laughed. “He’s exactly like a baby. Needs to be carried around and cleaned up after.” He reached into his pocket, took out a flask, and took a long swallow.

  Iyra knelt over Bowe and ran her fingers through his hair. They came away coated in blood.

  “So that’s what the red splashes were,” Bowe said. His head felt like it was floating above his body. Had he hit his head again when Urdo dropped him? He wasn’t sure.

  “Anyone have water I can use?” Iyra asked.

  Betta crouched down beside Iyra and gave her a waterskin. Iyra trickled the water over Bowe’s head and rubbed blood from his hair.

  “It’s a wide gash,” she said. “Anyone have a needle and thread?”

  Betta looked at one of the other women in the group. “You normally carry too much in those pouches of yours. Any chance of a needle and thread?”

  The woman opened her pouch and began to finger through it. “Let me check. I think I do.”

  “What about liquor?” Iyra asked. “Something to clean it out properly.”

  All gazes turned on Urdo.

  “No,�
�� Urdo said. Betta stared at him until he raised his hands. “Well, none for him anyway.”

  “Count it as another lesson to make you think before you bust skulls open.” Betta held out her hand.

  Urdo glared at Betta for a moment, then sighed and took the flask from his pocket. He held it out, then changed his mind and first took a long drink from it, before finally handing the flask over. “Don’t use all of it.”

  Betta crouched down beside Iyra, who was threading a needle. Bowe began to get worried. “I don’t like the taste of liquor. And what do you need a needle and thread for?”

  “To sew you up. And the liquor isn’t for drinking.”

  “What else can you do with liquor? And what do you mean ‘sew’ me?” The sharp needle was beginning to look more threatening.

  Iyra ignored him. She took the flask from Betta’s hands and poured it over his head. Bowe heard the groan of disgust from Urdo as the liquid ran through his hair. Then, an instant later, that was forgotten as a sharp pain shot through his head. He yelped through clenched teeth and reached up to stop Iyra from continuing. She knocked his hands away.

  “Hold his hands down,” she said. Betta grabbed Bowe’s wrists and pinned both hands against the ground by his side. Bowe struggled to free himself, but Betta was surprisingly strong and she leveraged her body weight to hold Bowe down.

  Iyra took the threaded needle and reached toward Bowe’s head, and Bowe thrashed his head about to avoid it. “What are you doing? You’re not sticking that in me. Needles and thread are for clothes, not for people.”

  “Stop moving, you big baby, or I’ll ask Urdo to lie on top of you. That’d keep you still, though it might crush a few vital organs in the process.”

  Bowe glanced at Urdo, whose glare indicated that he would be all too delighted to crush him. Bowe closed his eyes and stilled his head movements, enduring the pinching sensation as Iyra sewed him up.

  When the pinching stopped, he looked up to see Iyra wrapping a brown cloth around his head. “Hey, shouldn’t that be clean?”

  “You protest too much when you’re being helped,” Iyra said, lifting Bowe’s head to tie the cloth tightly around his head.

  “Men are always like that,” Betta said. “They all act like children whenever they can get away with it. Doesn’t matter how big they are.” She glanced up at Urdo.

  “Finished wrapping up the baby yet?” Urdo asked, ignoring Betta. “We should be getting back. Don’t want to lose the prisoner in the dark.”

  “Just about.” Iyra helped Bowe to a sitting position. “Can you walk?”

  “Oh, he can walk,” Urdo said.

  Bowe looked up at the flame-haired giant. “I can walk.”

  Chapter 6

  Day 11

  The texture of the rock was unusually soft, with an undulating surface crossed with crevices. It felt more like wood than rock, but colder. It was strong, though; it didn’t crumble. Bowe imagined he could see the indentations in the rock if he concentrated hard enough even though it was much too dark for that. Amazing what boredom could do to a person. After three days stuck in this tiny cave, anything passed as a distraction.

  He’d thought the cave pitch-black when he’d first arrived, but after three days here, he could make out the vague position of the walls. Or perhaps that was his imagination. At nighttime he could see nothing, but during the day just a hint of light made its way back to this deep cave.

  Bowe stopped running his fingers along the walls and started pacing. The cave was exactly three paces long and two and a half paces wide. Without having ever seen it, Bowe already knew this cave in every exact detail. He knew it much better than the bedroom where he’d spent every night for the last three years.

  Bowe reached up and touched the wound on the top of his head. It was tender, but it didn’t bleed anymore; it was healing cleanly. It was a strange feeling, touching the stitches; they seemed so out of place. Bowe didn’t like having his skin sewn up like it was merely an inner set of clothes. It made him feel like a bag of flesh and bone. He snorted. Three days without light induced dark thoughts, it seemed.

  Bowe’s tactics had always been to be bold. It had worked on the Green Path, when he’d gatecrashed the ascor ball. And when he’d turned up at the Refuge and declared himself the Guardian of the newly formed Bellanger family. Lately being bold hadn’t worked out so well. Launching the ill-named ship The Fool’s Hope. And demanding that Urdo step aside and let him through. The red-haired giant had not taken that well. Bowe touched the wound at the top of his head again. If Iyra hadn’t had a last-minute change of heart, it might have been worse. He didn’t want the story of Bowe Bellanger to end like that: bled to death while slung over a big oaf’s shoulder like a slain pig.

  I need to adjust to my new situation, he thought. Over the last few years, he’d gotten used to being one of the most powerful men in Arcandis. Servants bowed, and escay made way for him on the streets. If he gave an order, people jumped. Giving Urdo an order had resulted in him being jumped. Out here in the forest, being good with a sword was much more valuable than all his ascorim skills. Bowe never had much skill with weapons, and it had only gotten worse lately through lack of use. Thrace had tried to persuade Bowe to keep up his practice, but Bowe hadn’t seen the point when he had guards around. Bowe had never understood why the Greniers put so much emphasis on fighting skill, but he was beginning to now. Strip away rank and possessions, and those who were best at fighting would come out on top.

  Torchlight flooded the corridor leading to his cave, and Bowe stepped back into a corner, shielding his eyes. Footsteps entered. Bowe kept his gaze down, slitting his eyes against the glare of light.

  “How are you keeping?” It was Iyra’s voice.

  Bowe looked up, then immediately shielded his eyes again. The light was sharp and painful, searing directly into his brain. “You don’t care. You left me here to rot.”

  Iyra laughed. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only been a few days. And you’re not exactly locked in.”

  “Might as well be.” There was no physical reason that Bowe couldn’t walk out of his little cave. But Urdo had ordered Bowe not to leave, and promised he’d regret it if he did. He wished he’d actually been locked up; Bowe felt unmanned that he was kept here simply by a casual threat. Of course, it wasn’t just the threat that kept him here; Bowe had explored the small tunnel in the middle of the night. The cave only led out to the main cavern occupied by hundreds of bandits. There was no way out, lock or no lock.

  “I’ve tried to persuade Urdo to let you stay in the main chamber, but he isn’t easy to reason with.”

  Bowe snorted. “You’ve been partying and feasting out there, while I’ve been stuck in here.”

  Iyra sucked in a breath. “A few days out of your presence and already I forget how obnoxious you are. Thanks for reminding me. I didn’t have to come here and I don’t have to stay and try to help you.” After binding Bowe’s wound, Iyra had decided to come back with Urdo to make sure it didn’t reopen. “This place isn’t exactly overflowing with food. I’ve seen the meals that have been sent in to you, and you’ve been as well fed as anyone else. Plus, you and your kind often spend your days feasting and partying while the escay are left to rot in the darkness, so you’ve no right to complain.”

  Bowe felt sick at the disgust in her voice. Why did he always have to strike out at her? He raised his gaze and this time his eyes had adjusted enough to the light. Iyra was turning away, and he reached up and touched the back of her hand.

  She looked down at his fingers touching her hand with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Isn’t that against your beliefs? Touching your inferiors?”

  Iyra’s face was bright and otherworldly in the torchlight. What was it about her looks that always caused his insides to churn? He’d seen prettier girls, but none that had the same effect on him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Just being cooped up in here has made me go crazy. I want to thank you for dressing my wound after Urdo hit
me. I might have died except for that.”

  Iyra shook his hand off. “Go easy now. Thanking me and apologizing at the same time—your head might explode. Either yours or mine. Anyway, I didn’t have a choice; my job was to be your guide. I wouldn’t be much of one if you ended up dying.”

  Iyra had been close to leaving him to fend for himself, but Bowe decided not to mention that. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “That’s what I came to tell you before you distracted me. Here, let me see how your injury is doing.” Iyra gave Bowe the torch to hold and gently prodded the area around Bowe’s wound. “She’s back and she wants to see you. She’ll decide your fate.”

  “Who in Helion’s name is this ‘she’ that everyone keeps talking about?” Urdo had mentioned that he was bringing Bowe back so that “she” could decide what to do. What kind of woman did Urdo take instructions from?

  “The bandit queen. At least, that’s what everyone calls her. I’m not even sure of her first name. She made me tell her who you are.”

  “And what does she want with me?”

  “Follow me and find out. I’m hopeful that things will work out for you.”

  She took the torchlight off Bowe and moved away, but Bowe grabbed her to pull her back. “Wait.”

  Iyra turned back and stared at where Bowe’s hand gripped Iyra’s forearm. When Bowe realized what he was doing, he released her arm like he was holding a burning brand. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just, I need...I need to know more about what I’m dealing with. I knew there were bandits in the forest, I just didn’t expect there to be so many, or for them to be so organized.”

  “They try to keep a low profile, at least where the marshals and the ascor are concerned.”

  “And the Guild and the bandits work together?” Bowe asked.

  “We have an uneasy alliance. They don’t care about our cause.” Her mouth twisted. “All they care about is themselves. They target escay to rob rather than ascor or marshals because they fear what the ascor could do to them. But the Guild leadership keeps in communication with them and we trade and exchange favors, especially close to the Infernam. Now come on.”