The Treacherous Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 2)

by David J Normoyle

  “You should go back to Washima.” It was a man’s voice. Bowe didn’t recognize it but he had a feeling he’d heard it before.

  “Do you have a message for him?” It was Iyra’s voice. Bowe’s heart beat faster. She was here. Suddenly he didn’t feel so tired.

  “No, I’ve already sent word to him that everything is ready. Lears has already fled with all the Grenier marshals. Jakelin and the council have agreed not to oppose the Jarindors—not that they have any choice. Washima can claim Belldeem and the rest of the Arcandis countryside as soon as he marches in. Without bloodshed, as he wished.”

  Bowe had been ready to walk in once he heard Iyra’s voice, but now he realized she was talking to the Guild leader who had conspired to bring the Jarindors. He leaned closer.

  “I’m happy to go back,” Iyra said. “But what do you need me to do?”

  “He’ll trust you. It’ll be good to have someone on our side advising him.”

  “Isn’t he on our side?” Iyra asked.

  “Perhaps. All we know for sure right now is that we have a common enemy in the ascor. We’ll figure out if we’ll be friends once that enemy is defeated.”

  Footsteps approached the front door and Bowe retreated rapidly. He darted to the side and managed to throw himself into a small alley to the side of the house just as the door opened. Bowe peeked his head around the corner to watch the man exit.

  The Guild leader turned back and glanced once into the house before pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and walking down the street. That little glance was enough for Bowe to see him clearly, though, with the light from the inside of the house reflecting against his profile. It was Rianel, Jakelin’s son. It was no wonder he could organize the surrender to Jarind—he was one of the leaders of the council.

  Bowe remembered Jakelin’s anger toward the activities of the Guild. What would it do to him to find out that his son was their leader? Bowe remembered how dismissive Rianel had been of escay, not wanting Jakelin to mention his escay roots. At the same time, he was one of the leaders of the secret escay organization. He had been the best of friends with Lears, helping him implement the holdings tax, pushing for himself to gain promotion to become full ascor, while at the same time sabotaging the farmer’s crops in the name of the Guild, and, behind Coensaw’s back, helping the Jarindor invasion. The many faces of Rianel.

  Bowe couldn’t go to Iyra immediately. He couldn’t let her suspect what he’d witnessed. So he crouched down in the alley and waited. And thought. What was he to do now? It was time to make a decision. First he had to decide what side he was on. Was allowing a Jarindor bloodless conquest—as Iyra wanted—the best thing for the country? Bowe knew that the country needed a change. As things stood, if he regained his place as a Guardian, he’d have to preside over a whole new Green Path. Could he do that? Coensaw had dedicated many long years to the overthrow of the ascor, and he didn’t see the Jarindor invasion as the best route. So it wasn’t just Bowe’s upbringing as an ascor that made him wary of what the Jarindors offered.

  By being treated in the Jarindor hospital, Bowe had learned a great deal about them. He was reasonably certain that the Jarindor goal was truly a noble one. But Washima wasn’t a thinker; he was driven by a passion to right wrongs. What would happen after? Washima promised the ascor wouldn’t be harmed if they surrendered, but could he guarantee that? Bowe had seen how much the Jarindors wanted punishment, and what would the fervor of the Guild be like in looking for retribution? And what after that? Would the Jarindors just leave, or would they take up the leadership vacuum? The Refuge wouldn’t be any bigger, so how would the choices of who was to survive in three years’ time be made? Paulini hadn’t wanted to go into detail about the Jarindor ideas for population control—what if they were abhorrent to the Arcandi? Would the Jarindors enforce all their laws and codes in their newly conquered territory?

  Although Washima was their leader, it was the actions of the other Jarindors that worried Bowe most. It seemed that the Jarindors were a just people, a good people, but they were also a hard people. There was no room in their hearts for sympathy or forgiveness. Now, of course, the ascor weren’t much better—they were, in fact, much worse. But was replacing the ascor with the Jarindors the best choice? The kindest and best people that Bowe had met were Arcandi escay, and that was despite all the hardship they had to endure. If there was going to be a change, shouldn’t they be in charge?

  Those from old-Earth had put people in separate countries to create different cultures. If the Jarindors took over Arcandis and enforced their morals and policies, would they turn Arcandis into a lesser version of Jarind? The Jarindors Bowe had met had struck him as being rather black and white in their viewpoint with not much room for gray. Bowe could imagine someone like Paulini implementing Jarindor laws with strict punishments for those who disobeyed them. Wasn’t it true what the boy, Gef, had said—This is our country? The words had evoked a deep-seated feeling in Bowe, but it was only when he thought about it that he understood why.

  Was it too late for those thoughts? There was no way that the Arcandi could defeat the Jarindors in battle. A straight-out fight would just result in needless bloodshed. But Bowe had seen weaknesses in them. They had learned the art of war from books; they hadn’t experienced it. None of them were real fighters. They expected to win without much trouble—the soldiers thought that sailing from Jarind to Arcandis was going to be the hardest part. Washima was good-hearted, not exactly someone who would be the most effective at leading a war effort. How would he and his men react if they faced terrible setbacks? The Arcandi were likely better suited to handle the suffering that would come from a war simply because life in Arcandis was so brutal.

  The ghost of an idea settled on Bowe’s mind. It seemed ridiculous at first, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed possible. He would need to get back to Arcandis and get Coensaw and the Guardians to agree. They were unlikely allies, but they wouldn’t exactly have to work together. Bowe would need Iyra’s help to get back into the city and set up a meeting with the Guild leader. That realization created a roadblock in Bowe’s rapidly developing plan. She was sure that allowing the Jarindors to take over was the right way forward, and Bowe didn’t think he could convince her otherwise.

  The only way he could get Iyra’s help was to convince her that he was on her side. He’d have to deceive her. Bowe had sworn that he wouldn’t make her regret trusting him, but he was now convinced that what he was planning was the best—no, the only—way forward for Arcandis and he couldn’t let the oath stop him from doing what was right. She wouldn’t be happy when she found out, but she’d understand once she figured out that he did it for the right reasons.

  That is the only way, he decided as he left the alleyway and marched up to Iyra’s door. He knocked and waited. After a moment, light streamed out from the crevices around the door as a lantern inside was lit.

  Iyra opened the door and gasped. “What are you doing here? Washima and the Jarindors haven’t arrived yet, have they?”

  Bowe shook his head. “Not as far as I know.”

  “Well, come in,” she said. “It’s great to see you up and about again. I’ve been worried about you.”

  Bowe allowed himself to be guided in.

  “You look a mess. Covered in mud and leaves—how long have you been traveling? You must be ready to collapse. Did you make it here on your own? I’m amazed you—” She noticed Bowe’s missing hand. “Oh no.” She closed the door and guided him to the table and sat him down. “What happened?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Of course not. Washima had some tasks for me, and I checked in on you before I left. You were sleeping, and the doctor told me that he was taking good care of you and that you needed rest but you’d recover.”

  “I guess the good doctor didn’t exactly lie. I had gangrene, and they had no choice but to amputate at the wrist. They did take good care of me, though.” Apart from at the end when t
hey’d shoved him out of the tent. “Most of the time.”

  Iyra touched the edge of the bandage around his forearm. “Does it hurt?”

  “Most of the time it isn’t too bad. Doesn’t take much of an impact to send pain shooting through it, though. I wish I could say I hadn’t any experience of that.” He smiled. “I was attacked by a ten-year-old in the forest on the way over.”

  “And you lost, too, I bet.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “Well, the wound needs to be cleaned.” She went to get a bowl, filled it with water, and placed it on the table. She dipped Bowe’s stump in the water. The water was cool and soothing, and it made Bowe realize just how tight and tense his forehand had been. Mud came loose of the bandages and dissolved into the water, turning it brown. There were also streaks of red. “There’s blood, as well,” Iyra said. “I can’t believe Washima let you out in this state.”

  “I’m just lucky I was let out of there at all,” Bowe said.

  “What do you mean? Washima promised me he’d take care of you.”

  “He did. He’s a good man.” Bowe didn’t see any point in going into detail about his experiences. “You were right that he means well. He truly wants this whole thing to end with no bloodshed.”

  “So why do I find you at my door, muddy and bleeding and half-dead from tiredness?” Iyra started to unwrap Bowe’s bandage while his forearm was in the water.

  “You don’t want to see that.” Bowe tried to pull his stump back but Iyra wouldn’t let him.

  “Don’t be silly, it has to be cleaned. I’m not going to let you get gangrene again, not if I can help it.” She finished unwrapping the stump, then pulled it out of the muddy water. “Hold that in the air. I’ll get some clean water to clean it.”

  Iyra didn’t flinch at the sight of the ugly and misshapen mass of flesh where Bowe’s wrist should have been. Unhealed skin was folded across the top of the stump and livid red scars ran through it. Despite having seen it many times in the last few days, Bowe still felt disgusted by it. He shuddered to think that he’d be faced with this ugliness every morning for the rest of his life.

  Iyra returned with clean water and some fresh bandages. She dipped the stump in the water and gently cleaned it. Bowe closed his eyes. The touch of her fingers was soft and comforting.

  “I can see where the wound reopened,” she said, “but it doesn’t look too bad. The bleeding has stopped. She dried the stump with a cloth then wrapped it up with the fresh bandage. “If you can prevent yourself from being beaten up by children for a few days, it shouldn’t start bleeding again.”

  “Being beaten up by children isn’t too bad. It’s all the adults who want to kill me that’s harder to take.”

  “I hope you don’t intend on feeling sorry for yourself. You were never much good with that right hand anyway. As an ascor, being able to use the mush between your ears is much more important than using your hands.”

  Bowe wasn’t sure that the other ascor would see it that way. Would they just see him as a cripple, someone damaged and useless? “My right arm would be a bigger loss if I were a woodcarver?”

  “Don’t be like that. You know what I mean. Now, you didn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “We all have to do our part,” Bowe said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that Washima gave me a message for the other Guardians.”

  “The other Guardians want you dead.”

  “That was before the invasion. Right now, I’m the only one of the ascor who has met the Jarindors. They’ll have to listen to me. But I need your help to get into Arcandis City. You know how to find the tunnel that goes under the wall.”

  Bowe reached across with his left hand and cupped the back of Iyra’s hand.

  Iyra pulled her hand away and stood up. “I can’t. I have another task I need to do.”

  “This is more important,” Bowe said.

  “What did message did Washima want delivered?”

  “He promises that the Guardians won’t be harmed if they surrender.”

  “And you think they’ll do it.” Iyra sat down again. There was a note of hope in her voice.

  Bowe’s mouth felt dry. He didn’t want to lie to her, especially now that he had found out she hadn’t known about his hand when she’d left him behind. The Guardians weren’t going to agree to Washima’s proposal because Bowe wasn’t going to mention it. “They might accept.” Bowe reached forward and grabbed Iyra’s hand again. This time she didn’t pull away. “Don’t you see? This is the chance to finish this without any fighting. Without requiring thousands upon thousands of needless deaths. Belldeem has already agreed to surrender without a fight, perhaps the city can too. Don’t you see how important this is—I need you to help me get back into the city. There’s no one else I can trust.”

  Bowe’s stomach squirmed as he made his case. Some of what he’d said had been true. Not the heart of it, though. He was going to have a hard job persuading her to trust him again after this. Especially after what he’d sworn.

  “I didn’t think we were on the same side in this,” Iyra stood up and paced to the other side of the room. “You’re a Guardian and I’m in the Guild.”

  Bowe followed her and moved close, touching the top of her right hip. He thought about whether each statement was a lie or the truth as he said them. “I told you I changed.” True. “We’re on the same side.” False. “These past few weeks have shown me a great deal about myself and about the society we live in.” True. “As Guardian and as ascor, I’m part of a great evil.” True. “The only way to change things is for this Jarindor invasion to succeed.” False.

  Iyra smiled hesitantly. “You’re serious? You truly see things like that? Like I do?”

  Bowe nodded. “Coensaw wanted to keep me alive so that I could affect change from within. Now is the chance for me to do that. To redeem myself as ascor and as a man. Coensaw wouldn’t tell me if I was truly an ascor or an escay, so perhaps I can be both, perhaps I can be the bridge between them. But I need your help.”

  “You can persuade the Guardians to surrender to the Jarindors?”

  “There’s a chance. Will you help me?” Bowe leaned in and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She responded, her lips parting against his.

  When Iyra finally pulled away from him, neither of them could keep smiles off of their faces.

  “That was nice,” Bowe said.

  “Is this how you win all your arguments?” Iyra asked.

  “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

  “I need more persuading.” Iyra leaned in and they kissed again. This time their kiss was hungrier, and they began fumbling at each other’s clothes. Strangely Bowe’s lack of a hand didn’t slow him down in undressing her.

  Chapter 20

  Day 39

  A thrill ran through Bowe as he saw the city skyline in the distance. He looked across to see if Iyra felt the same, but her mouth had twisted in distaste. Bowe could understand that, because the black towers of the Fortress were the most obvious landmark from this direction. Most escay hated that building, for many of them who entered never came out again.

  But for Bowe, after all the time away, most of it involving suffering in one form or another, seeing the city made him feel like he was home again. He was returning less whole than he’d been before. He glanced down at his right arm. On the other hand, he was returning with a far greater understanding of the world he lived in. Like how life on the planet had begun. He’d tried to explain to Iyra about old-Earth, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it.

  He’d also gained an understanding about the lives of the escay. When Bowe had left, Coensaw had said that it didn’t matter whether he was the son of an ascor or the son of an escay. He didn’t understand that then, but he was beginning to now. He was the same person either way. If the other ascor felt different, it was they who didn’t understand. Not that he intended to tell any of the ascor that he could be an escay. He ha
dn’t lost his wits as well as his hand.

  Plus, he more or less knew from Jakelin that he wasn’t really an escay. That made contemplating being one much easier.

  “We’d better wait here until nightfall,” Iyra said. “Then we can get inside through the tunnel.”

  Bowe reached for her. “That’ll be several hours. Whatever could we do until then?”

  Iyra slapped his hand away. “Don’t be silly, we’re just outside the city walls, anyone could be wandering about. Including Grenier marshals looking for Jarindor scouts.”

  “We’re not Jarindor scouts.”

  “Doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be arrested. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to talk your way into a meeting with the Guardians from a cell inside the Fortress.” She set her pack down and leaned it against a tree. “If we keep alert and talk quietly, we should be fine.”

  “I’m already on alert,” Bowe said, grabbing at her waist, “and willing to be quiet.”

  Iyra slapped him away again.

  Bowe smiled and settled down with his back against a tree.

  They’d slept together in the farmer’s house in Belldeem and it had been wonderful. If Arcandis City felt like home in one way, being with Iyra felt like home in another. It had been so much better than the night he’d spent with a courtesan. That night had been all about the excitement of a new adventure and the satisfaction of release. With Iyra, it had been like the discovery and exploration of a new world—strange yet familiar. The act itself was the union of two bodies coming together in harmony, and afterward Bowe felt more complete than he ever had when he’d had two hands.