The Treacherous Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 2)

by David J Normoyle

  “It’s our way.” Bowe agreed that the Green Path was wrong, but he wasn’t going to say that to this doctor. Paulini thought he knew more about it than Bowe just by reading a few lines in a report. “You don’t understand.”

  “It’s not just the Green Path,” Paulini said. “The Fortress, the way escay are treated by ascor, the way ascor women are treated, and the callous way that so many are forced to kill themselves when they can’t get into the Refuge every six years. The Green Path is only the smallest part of what’s wrong with Arcandis. How could the Guardians have allowed this society to have become so corrupt?”

  “It’s the nature of the Infernam,” Bowe said. “Only so many can survive. Why didn’t those in the flying ships make the Refuges bigger if they could do so many wonderful and magical things?”

  “I wish they did make them bigger,” Paulini said. “But the size of the Refuges was decided by the first Guardians.”

  “Are you saying that they could have made them much bigger if they wanted to? Let everyone in? And they decided not to, and now everyone who can’t fit in must die instead? You said we were the barbaric ones.”

  “It sounds harsh. But whatever size they made them, eventually the population would grow to fill them. That was the problem on old-Earth. The amount of people became too big, and the only way they could manage was with more and more technology and eventually the planet became overloaded. Used up. So the Refuges were designed to allow the population to expand, but only in a controlled and limited way. I’m sure those who terraformed the planet couldn’t imagine things turning out as badly as they have here. The two main tasks of the Guardians of each country were to ensure that population growth didn’t get out of hand and that technology advances didn’t occur.”

  “Well, the Guardians of Arcandis haven’t failed on the two main tasks.”

  “I’m sure creating a decent quality of life for all the people in the country was the most important task of the Guardians, even if it wasn’t spelled out.”

  “And the justifications that give one country the right to invade another. Were they spelled out?”

  Paulini looked away. “I was hoping you’d understand when I explained it to you.”

  “And what population control measures do the Jarindors employ?” Bowe asked.

  Paulini walked to the edge of the canvas screen, then turned back. “We don’t slaughter people.” And he left.

  But he isn’t happy to tell me about their population control measures, Bowe thought. No matter how much he appears to believe in knowledge.

  Chapter 18

  Day 36

  Bowe woke up and immediately glanced down at his right hand. It wasn’t there, of course, but for an infinitesimal moment just after he woke, he had hoped that everything had just been a nightmare. He wanted to wake up and be whole again, but that would never happen. As if to remind him of that, a shiver of pain ran through his upper arm and Bowe gripped the base of the stump with his left.

  He had to accept what had happened and move on. Last night when he’d felt sorry for himself, he’d started to play a game he called What would Vitarr say? Imagining his old friend’s words had cured him rather quickly. You still have three working limbs—how many do I have? he’d say. Or Don’t play the who-has-it-worse game with me; fish have been nibbling on my toe bones for three years now. It made Bowe smile to imagine the way Vitarr would look at him and make him feel like a fool for feeling sorry for himself. You aren’t beaten yet, Bowe Bellanger, Vitarr would say. You’re only beaten when you stop trying.

  Stop trying or die, Bowe supposed. That was something he hadn’t thought much about yet. What was his status here? Was he a prisoner, and if so, what did the Jarindors intend to do with him?

  Paulini interrupted Bowe’s thoughts by walking in with a plate of food. He put it down on Bowe’s lap and Bowe started to eat.

  “I came in to see how you were doing. We gave you no pain pills last night, so you’ll probably need some this morning.”

  Bowe’s forearm was aching but he decided he wanted to stay out of the pain-pill fog if he could manage it. “The pain isn’t too bad. I’m okay for now.”

  Paulini watched Bowe for a moment before speaking again. “Have you heard of something called therapy?”

  Bowe shook his head. “Is it a type of machine that’s alive?”

  “No. How do I explain this... We have a great many medical textbooks, but some of the procedures and cures are not possible without the technology. But one that is actually rather effective doesn’t require any medical equipment at all. However, it does require the patient to believe in it.”

  “Sounds like a strange kind of medicine. What is it?”

  “It involves talking about what troubles you.”

  Bowe laughed. “That’s what passes for medicine in Jarind? Here we call it moaning about your problems.”

  “I’m serious. You’ve lost your hand. Physically, it seems to be healing excellently. But the psychological damage will usually last much longer than anything else. It can last years.”

  “Psycho-what?”

  “It means in your mind, essentially.”

  Bowe laughed again. “Well, if it’s just in my mind that’s okay. An old friend has been talking to me recently from beyond the grave. Gave me some advice and sorted me out. That all happened in my head, so I’m good on the psycho front.”

  Paulini didn’t look amused. “So if you don’t want to talk about your missing hand, what about your attempt to commit suicide?”

  “What?” Bowe’s head jerked forward. “I didn’t do that.”

  “I was just reading your file. The friend who brought you in told us that you recently went out into the sea on your own and nearly drowned.”

  “That’s not how it happened. I had a fever and I wasn’t thinking straight. But I didn’t try to kill myself. Why would Iyra think that?”

  “Maybe she didn’t understand,” Paulini said.

  “Damn right she didn’t understand.” Bowe lifted his stump. “Maybe she’ll understand now. I knew there was something dirty, something unclean about the wound. It needed to be washed. I hoped that the sea would clean it.”

  “Interesting words you used,” Paulini said. “Unclean, dirty.”

  Bowe snorted. “I didn’t know the medical term for it. I didn’t know I had gangrene.”

  “I heard some shouts in the night coming from here. Sounded like you had nightmares. Were they related to losing your hand?”

  “No. They had nothing to do with losing my hand. I get them every night. Happy?”

  Unfortunately, that did seem to make the doctor happy. “Recurring nightmares? When did they begin?”

  “What does it matter? They’re just dreams.”

  “Dreams matter a great deal,” Paulini said. “No one knows what’s going on in their own mind, not truly. Even if someone thinks they do, they often only understand the surface of their mind. Dreams and nightmares can be a window into the heart of the mind. Into your very soul.”

  “Doctor, I had a hard time believing you yesterday with your flying ships and travel in the stars, but now you’re surely just having fun and making this up with your therapy and psycho-something and a mind with a heart.”

  “I’m quite serious.”

  Bowe hadn’t seen the doctor laugh or even smile; he was beginning to realize that the doctor was a person without a humorous bone in his body.

  “Think about what you have done to cause the nightmares,” the doctor continued. “Do you feel guilty about something?”

  “I know what I’ve done.” Bowe was guilty of being still alive while Vitarr and Edison and Glil and others weren’t. The nightmares were clear on that.

  “Have you done wrong?”

  “I did my best, but I still feel bad about what happened.”

  “I think your problem is that you can’t accept blame for your actions. Deep in your soul, you know you did wrong, but you can’t admit it.” Paulini was leaning
over Bowe now, his eyes slitted.

  “What do you know about what I have and haven’t done wrong?”

  Paulini backed away. “Nothing. I’m just trying to help. Doctors are responsible for more than just their patients’ physical ills.”

  “So now that we’ve done this therapy and talked about it, am I cured? Will the nightmares stop?”

  “We are still on the surface of your problems. You have to dig deeper and understand your guilt. I can guide, but the will to get to the heart of the matter must come from you.”

  Mother killer, the seagulls and the wind had said. Bowe was sure that Paulini would love to hear that. From the way he had looked at Bowe earlier, the doctor seemed to have a strange fascination with Bowe’s guilt. That was enough to make Bowe shy away from admitting anything. Plus, that had been under the influence of the fever, so it probably didn’t mean anything. Chalori hadn’t really been Bowe’s mother, and he couldn’t stop her from taking Paradise’s Kiss. She wasn’t one of those who appeared in Bowe’s nightmares.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon and Bowe was getting bored. Paulini hadn’t been to see him in a while, and doing nothing except staring at the canvas tent ceiling tended to make Bowe feel sorry for himself, much as he tried not to. Iyra still hadn’t been in to see him, and wondering about the whys of that didn’t lead to happy thoughts either.

  So Bowe decided he was well enough to walk around a bit. He was wearing a gown of some sort, and when he sat up and looked around he spotted a pair of slippers. The floor of the tent consisted of hard-packed dirt, with tufts of grass sticking out in the corners.

  Bowe’s legs wobbled when he stood, but overall, he felt stronger than he would have expected. After a few moments to get used to standing, he walked past the canvas screen and out into the rest of the hospital tent. The rest of the tent was large and there were many beds, but few patients. There were several doctors, but no one seemed to notice Bowe, so he walked to the entrance, opened the flap, and walked out.

  A gust of wind caught Bowe just as the flap closed behind him, and it almost knocked him over. Several chairs were lined up along the front of the tent and Bowe gratefully plumped himself down on the first one.

  Bowe held up his right arm. “Well, we did it, stumpy. Our first adventure together, walking out of the hospital tent, and we did it, you and me together.” Bowe shook his arm up and down to make it appear as if the bandaged stump was nodding. He chuckled to himself and looked around.

  Tents of all shapes and sizes filled the plain. The ground between the tents had been churned into mud. All the soldiers wore their black cloaks, though most of the ones Bowe could see were more brown than black. They wore chainmail and a few carried oversized rectangular shields. The camp was massive; the Jarindors certainly seemed to have a big enough army to do the job they came for. Bowe couldn’t imagine that the Arcandi had enough marshals between them to give this army any competition.

  Two soldiers were trudging past, and Bowe listened in to their conversation.

  “I don’t understand why we’re still here. Shouldn’t we have moved in on the city by now?”

  “I think Washima wants there to be no bloodshed, for them to just surrender.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a bit of action after coming all this way.”

  “I’m happy enough to get rid of those ascor, sort everything out, and start sailing back to Jarind. How long since we left now? Forty days? We’d be home by now if we weren’t delayed by those storms.”

  “It’s day thirty-six of the Arcandi invasion. After getting here, despite the stormy seas, I think we’ve done the hard part. Once we start marching, everything will fall into place and the country will fall in days. The ordinary people will stand up to their oppressors once they know they have some support. I’m thinking there’ll be plenty grateful to us for helping to free them. I’m hoping that some of those who are grateful will be attractive young ladies.”

  “Careful, now. Watch what you’re saying. We aren’t supposed to take anything or mistreat anyone.”

  “I don’t mean to take. But if there’s something being offered, I don’t think I’m obliged to refuse.”

  Bowe leaned back and tuned out of the conversation as they headed out of earshot. They didn’t expect much opposition, and Bowe couldn’t say they were wrong. Paulini had said they had adopted the military tactics of a people who could defeat ten times their number. How were the Arcandi to compete with that?

  “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  Bowe looked up in surprise to see that the two soldiers had returned and now stood in front of him. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a rumor we captured one of the Arcandi leaders. A teenage boy Guardian. It’s you.” It was the taller of the two who spoke. The one who wanted the young Arcandi ladies to be grateful.

  Bowe nodded.

  He reached for his sword, but his companion grabbed his hand. “This isn’t our business. It’s for Washima and the other leaders to decide what to do with him.”

  “I just hate to see the evil creature sitting out here like he hasn’t a care in the word.”

  “So do I, but—”

  “What’s going on here?” A third soldier joined them, and this one Bowe was glad to see. He was the officer who had come upon Iyra and Bowe by the watchtower.

  “We came across the Arcandi Guardian. Just making sure he wasn’t going to escape,” said the taller soldier.

  “Be on your way. I’ll take care of this.”

  The two soldiers came to attention then turned and marched away.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you came by.” Bowe’s smile died before it was fully formed when faced with the stony expression of the officer. He had been so friendly that night in the watchtower. Too friendly, even, Bowe had felt, the way he had laughed at all Iyra’s dumb jokes.

  “Don’t be so familiar with me. You deceived me—I didn’t know what you were before. If I had, you might not have made it back here in one piece.”

  “I’m not quite in one piece.” Bowe held up his stump.

  “Just return to your bed.”

  Bowe stood up and did as he was ordered, ducking back through the entrance tent. Unlike when he’d left, the doctors and patients all noticed him—they must have heard the ruckus outside. The attention made him hurry, for there wasn’t a friendly gaze among them. Bowe hadn’t liked Paulini much, but he hadn’t been outright hostile, which made him an exception among the Jarindors, Bowe now realized.

  So Bowe was glad to get behind the canvas screen and slip into bed. He had barely a chance to start trying to analyze everything he’d just seen and heard when the canvas screen shuddered and Washima shouldered his way into Bowe’s room. He touched his palms together and bowed his head.

  Bowe held up his stump. “I can’t return the gesture.” He was glad that Washima was being polite. On the other hand, he did wear a large sword at his belt, so it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that he’d come to chop Bowe’s head off.

  “I was told you were outside causing trouble with the men.” He had the same deep voice that Bowe remembered. The accent was more familiar to Bowe now that he had met other Jarindors.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Bowe said. “But it seems that everyone here hates me.”

  “They would. You are the great evil that we have come all this way to overthrow.”

  “A great evil. I’ve come up in the world. I didn’t think I would become a great evil until I was at least forty-three. But I’ve achieved it at sixteen—is that a record?”

  Washima sighed, pulled up a chair and sat down. He had to lift his sword belt so it didn’t tangle with the ground. “I remember you from three years ago. You were just a dumb kid, and I’m not sure much has changed. I wanted to hate you then, and I have even more reason to now. But I don’t. I hate your way of life, I hate what the Guardians have done to your country, I hate the suffering that the people here face. I hate what you represent, but I find it
hard to hate the kid lying in the bed before me. I don’t understand how you have become a Guardian at such a young age, but that’s what Iyra told me, and I’ve no reason not to trust her.”

  “Where is Iyra?” Bowe was glad to finally be able to ask.

  “She’s not here at camp. She’s been helping our cause, though.”

  Bowe didn’t know how to react to that. At least she hadn’t been around and decided not to visit. On the other hand, she clearly saw helping the Jarindor invasion as being more important than making sure he didn’t die.

  “She asked me to take care of you as a favor to her,” Washima continued. “And I do owe her one.”

  “Were you going to leave me to die if she didn’t ask?”

  “It would have been easier.”

  “I helped that time, too. When the crew was imprisoned in your ship.”

  “All you did was let yourself be persuaded not to interfere. It’s her who I’m grateful to, and the thief, not you.”

  “I see. You’ve brought this army of volunteers all the way to defeat these evil Guardians. And you now have one in your custody. I didn’t even know I was a prisoner.”

  “I haven’t called you a prisoner,” Washima said. “Just an Arcandi who needed medical attention. But people have found out who you are.”

  “Which changes things?”

  “In the eyes of most of the soldiers, yes. But I’ve met you. I know you’re just a kid caught up in this whole thing. But maybe this could work out for the best. Perhaps you’ll be able to go back to the other Guardians and speak to them. Tell them about our army, how they can’t win.”

  Bowe felt a lift—he had been beginning to think that Washima had no intention of letting Bowe leave. “My doctor told me you studied ancient military tactics.”

  Washima nodded. “Yes. It was very impressive what the Romans achieved. The discipline and training of a relatively small amount of Roman soldiers led to a city-state becoming a vast empire.”