The Narrowing Path: The Complete Trilogy (The Narrowing Path Series Book 4)

by David J Normoyle

  Nechil fell asleep almost at once, made obvious by the light snoring emanating from his corner of the room. Beside him, Iyra wrapped herself in the blanket and lay down. Bowe sat back with the blanket pulled up to his neck and looked around him. From the outside it looked like half the roof had caved in, but this one room, at least, had a complete ceiling. It was well provisioned, though that had been recently done. Dust trails showed where large baskets had been dragged against walls. The White Spider wasn’t leaving much to chance. From what Bowe could see sticking out from the top of the baskets, there was enough food to last through a siege and enough weapons to outfit a score of soldiers.

  Bowe wrapped his blanket around him and lay down, using his arm as a pillow. The floor was hard, bumpy, and cold, but he was tired and he quickly fell asleep.

  * * *

  When Bowe woke, it took him a moment to orientate himself and remember he was no longer in Jakelin’s house. He sat up. Against the far wall the White Spider sat in a chair with a small lantern at his feet. The mix of light and shadow on the mask made it appear even more ghoulish than usual. The White Spider seemed to be watching Bowe, but who could tell with that damned mask on?

  “Won’t the light from that lantern be seen?” Bowe indicated the window close to where the White Spider sat.

  “Hopefully,” was the White Spider’s monotone reply.

  “Where are the others?”

  “Nechil’s gone back down the trail to see if he can find out how far back Dulnato is and how many men he has with him. Iyra is outside keeping watch in case they make it past him.”

  “How do you know Dulnato is following us?”

  “He received a tip-off about your location. When he arrived in Belldeem, the informant was able to point out which direction you left in. Nechil left an easy trail for Dulnato to follow.”

  “I see.” Bowe hadn’t noticed that Nechil was leaving a trail, but the thought of hiding their tracks had never occurred to him. “What if Dulnato brings half the Grenier marshals in the city down on us?”

  “I hoped that he’d follow the tip-off on his own. He doesn’t know for sure that it’s for real, and he wants personal credit for finding you.”

  “So you think he’ll come alone?”

  “No. It won’t be as easy as that. He is cautious, and will know that he follows the tracks of more than one person. He’s likely to use those marshals who are in Belldeem that he sent to search for you.”

  “Those who have spent so much time in the local tavern.”

  The mask moved up and down as he nodded.

  “You can’t know Dulnato well enough to be sure.”

  “Perhaps. We’ll find out for sure soon. I’ve had many traps fail.”

  “Years of weaving webs and setting traps just to catch one prey. How did you get your nickname?”

  “I chose it,” he said. “I once saw a white spider. It was in the back corner of an old barn I was playing in. I’ve never been afraid of insects, but chills ran through me when I saw that white spider with red eyes. It was tiny, probably wasn’t even poisonous, but still it terrified me. When I saw myself with that mask on, I remembered that spider. It didn’t take much to get people to change what they called me. Jisri was dead.”

  “I didn’t like being used as bait when I heard, and now that I know the plan I like it less. It’s as much trapping yourself as it is him. And I’m stuck in the middle. This scheme is weak.”

  “True. I’m not surprised you don’t appreciate getting stuck in the middle. But I got tired. Tired of waiting, tired of everything. Dulnato started pursuing you, just like that day on the docks when Jisri got in the way. Seems fitting that it comes back full circle like this. Dulnato chasing you and Jisri getting in the way. Hopefully this will have a different ending.”

  “Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Bowe asked. “Has the mask changed you that much?”

  “You of all people should have figured it out. You were there after all. It’s impossible to survive a knife to the brain.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I guess there’s no point in continuing with this anymore. Tonight is the end of the White Spider, whatever else happens.” He reached behind his head to the strings that tied the mask together and began to undo them.

  Bowe stood up and dropped the blanket at his feet, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to see. How horrible the scars would have to be for him to have worn the mask for so long.

  The strings came loose and fell to the side. The White Spider gripped the mask on both sides and pulled it downward. As the mask fell away, Bowe remembered the knife entering Jisri’s left eye and the boy spiraling from the pier into the sea. For all the world, there had seemed to be no life in the body. It’s impossible to survive a knife to the brain, the White Spider had said. You of all people should have figured it out. That meant Jisri had died that day and the White Spider was—

  The mask came away in Jadilla’s hand. Bowe had only seen her once a long time ago, but it could only be her. Jisri’s twin sister. Her face was pasty white, her skin blotchy, and her hair was cut short.

  “Not what you were expecting,” she said. The monotone had clearly been put on. She now just sounded like a normal girl.

  “No,” Bowe admitted. It was still a shock to him. “I still don’t understand.”

  “I was there that night. Jisri and I were meeting on the docks when we heard running. He just had time to swing me down the platform below when you crashed into him and he was suddenly surrounded by Dulnato and his Defenders.”

  A memory flashed into Bowe’s mind. Something Jisri had said that night. “That night, he was talking to you, not me.” Bowe recited the words Jisri had said. “‘No matter what happens, stay out of sight. For the love we bear each other. Remember the promise.’” Bowe had tried to figure out what Jisri had meant, but he couldn’t because the words hadn’t been meant for him. He had been speaking to his sister on the platform below.

  A tear tracked down Jadilla’s cheek. “If I close my eyes I can still hear his voice saying those words. The promise was that the other would keep going if one of us failed to get into the Refuge. When I made the promise, I didn’t know how hard it would be to keep. Three years it’s been, and still I feel raw at the edges. We shared the same womb–perhaps, we were meant to be one person. All I know for sure is I cannot simply go on without him.”

  “But you managed to survive,” Bowe said. “You survived the Green Path when scores of boys died. You are one of the ascor now.” Bowe was only now realizing the full extent of what this meant. A girl had pretended to be a Green, been selected as an ascor, and lived as one for three years. What would happen when the other ascor found out?

  “I only live to see the light die in Dulnato’s eyes, and for him to know that it was I who did it and why.”

  “Dulnato killed Jisri, it’s true,” Bowe said. “But it was on the Path, and that’s what Greens do. He killed friends of mine—Vitarr and Edison—too. I can’t blame him too much—it’s the nature of the Path.” Though even as he said the words, the twist in his gut told Bowe it wasn’t true. Bowe did blame Dulnato for killing Edison and most especially for killing Vitarr. He wasn’t prepared to dedicate his life to vengeance, though; he had let it go.

  “You don’t know Dulnato like I do,” Jadilla said. “I grew up with him. Several boys died before they became Greens—those who wouldn’t join him that he considered threats—and Dulnato made a few attempts to corner Jisri at Grenier Mansion. He deliberately crippled one of your friends, Sorrin. There was no chance Jisri could have survived the Path while Dulnato survived. I live to see him dead.”

  And then? Bowe wondered, but decided not to ask. Could Jadilla find a life for herself if Dulnato was dead?

  Footsteps slapping on the stairs drew both their attention. They turned and waited. Iyra clambered up the last few steps of the stairs and ran across the room to them, her muddy shoes leaving a trail across the
floor. She stopped dead when she saw Jadilla. Her gaze flicked down at the mask and back up to Jadilla. “So no horrible knife wound in your face.”

  Jadilla smiled. “Much worse than that. I’m a female.”

  “Well, I know the ascor will think it much worse,” Iyra said. “To find out that one of the chosen ones is actually a female. How is that possible?” She shook her head. “There’s no time for that right now. Nechil told me that they’re close and that we’re to get ready. He’ll remain in hiding behind them until the right time.”

  “How many are with him?” Bowe asked.

  “Four or five,” Iyra said.

  Bowe grimaced. “We were hoping that he’d come alone.”

  “Always a long shot.” There was a grim satisfaction in Jadilla’s features. “Not to worry. We didn’t want this to be too easy, now did we? I suggest you go to the door and greet them. You’re the bait after all.”

  “I thought we were ambushing him.”

  “Nechil and I are ambushing.” Jadilla picked up a bow from a basket and several quivers of arrows. She took the quivers to the window. “Quickly, now.”

  “It would make more sense if we all ambushed them.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to be awkward.” Jadilla pulled an arrow from a quiver and nocked it to the bowstring. “You know how invested I am in this going perfectly.” She didn’t pull back on the arrow, but the implication was clear.

  “You wouldn’t shoot me,” Bowe said. “You need me.”

  “Maybe you’ll be just as useful with an arrow to the ankle, with the added bonus of being more compliant.”

  “I thought we were on the same side.” Iyra glared at Jadilla.

  “We are, we are.” Bowe put a hand on Iyra’s shoulder. “We just do it the White Spider’s way. It’s her show.” Bowe nodded at the basket of weapons. “Can Iyra and I take all the weapons we need? I promise you I want Dulnato dead as much as you do.”

  “Of course.” Jadilla nodded. “Though I seriously doubt you want him dead as much as I do.”

  “Why don’t you grab a bow and take the far window?” Bowe suggested to Iyra. “Then when everything goes to chaos, start shooting.”

  “What about you?” Iyra asked. “Your plan is just to go outside and get killed?”

  “I’ll stay just inside the doorway. I’ll draw Dulnato close, then close the door and let Jadilla and Nechil and you do most of the work. I’ve the easy job.”

  “That door is hanging off its hinges. It won’t make a great barrier. What happens if you have to hold them off with a sword?” Iyra asked. “There are plenty of stories about you outwitting opponents or winning Harmony matches. None about your skill with arms.”

  Jadilla gave a soft laugh. “Nechil told me about the time Bowe charged down the stairs at four of Dulnato’s men and forgot to draw his sword. Nechil had to jump in front of him to block attacks on him, then haul him back up the steps.”

  “That sounds like the mush-for-brains I know,” Iyra said. “Have you improved in the last three years?”

  Bowe scowled at both of them. “I’ll be fine.” Why hadn’t he gone into the practice ring every time Thrace had urged him to? He couldn’t remember one of his excuses now, but at the time anything had seemed more important than swordplay.

  Bowe looked at the pile of weapons and picked up the largest sword he could see. He tried a few practice swings, but the blade had a mind of its own. The tip of it accidentally scraped against the wall. He put it down, chose a smaller blade, and glared at Iyra, daring her to say anything.

  She didn’t, but that tight smile was just as bad. The words mush-for-brains were in Iyra’s thoughts if not on her tongue. She picked up a bow and two quivers of arrows. “Come on,” she said. “I can’t let you go down there on your own. You’re likely to hurt someone, and I don’t mean our enemies.”

  Bowe opened his mouth to object, but knew from her expression that nothing he said would make any difference. “Stay behind me,” he said instead, and descended the stairs. “Do you know how to use that bow?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Well enough to not hit you in the back,” she said, following him. “Unless I want to.”

  Before Bowe could reply, Jadilla spoke in a low, urgent voice. “Quickly, they’re nearly here. Get ready.”

  Bowe scraped the door ajar until it was a quarter of the way open and looked outside. He pushed Iyra back so she was out of sight.

  He didn’t have long to wait. Shadows materialized, five or six figures barely outlined by the torchlight from the upper window. Great ambush, White Spider, Bowe thought. We’re outnumbered and surrounded.

  “Who goes there?” Bowe shouted out. “Be warned that this is a cursed tower. Flee if you value your lives.”

  “Is that the best you can do, Bowe? Children’s stories?” Dulnato stopped several paces away. Bowe couldn’t see his face but recognized him from his voice and build. In a children’s story he’d be a troll or giant, with his massive shoulders and thick arms.

  “The truth is worse than the children’s story,” Bowe said. “The warning stands. Leave if you value your lives.”

  “Is that a blade I see sticking out the door?” Dulnato asked, seeing Bowe’s sword. “Those from outside the Grenier family shouldn’t play with dangerous toys like that. Certainly not you, Bowe. You’ve had a good run. I’m happy enough to kill you now, but if you give yourself up we’ll bring you back to Arcandis for torture and execution. That’s a fair offer.”

  A torch fell from the window above, and Dulnato twisted his neck to look up. The torch landed beside them, and Dulnato and his five men were all at once in plain view. Bowe recognized some of them as those who’d been recently drinking in the tavern in Belldeem. No sooner had they appeared than one of them called out in pain and fell. A twang sounded right by Bowe’s ear, and Bowe sensed more than saw an arrow fly through a crack in the door directly toward Dulnato’s head.

  Either by luck or amazing reflexes, Dulnato’s head swayed to the side at just that moment and the arrow missed. Bowe grabbed the door and tried to pull it into him, but he was too slow. Dulnato’s face twisted in fury as he charged. He grabbed hold of the door and threw it open. It slammed against the wall, nearly falling from its hinges. Bowe got a glimpse of other marshals falling to arrows just before Dulnato filled the doorway, blocking out the torchlight. Bowe held his sword in front of him, but Dulnato simply stepped past it and rammed the hilt of his sword into Bowe’s face. Bowe fell backward onto the steps and quickly lifted his blade again, but Dulnato swung quickly and hit Bowe’s sword low on the blade. The sword flew from Bowe’s hand, crashed into the wall, and fell beside Dulnato’s feet.

  Bowe could feel blood dribbling from his nose and mouth, and he wiped the back of his hand across his face. The sword was out of Bowe’s reach and with Dulnato standing over him he could do nothing to save himself. Suddenly Dulnato twisted around. Behind him Iyra was raising her bow and drawing back another arrow. Before she could release, Dulnato swung the flat of his blade against the bow, knocking it aside. The arrow fell to the ground and Iyra backed away, but there was nowhere to go; she was trapped in the corner behind the door. Dulnato struck downward and she raised her bow to block. The sword sheered the bow in two and the two halves fell to the ground. Dulnato raised his sword over his head again.

  Bowe shoved himself forward. “No!” It was more of an inhuman roar than a shout. He wasn’t going to let her be killed. Bowe didn’t have time to get between Dulnato and Iyra or pick up his sword, so he did the only thing he could to prevent Dulnato’s strike. He grabbed the blade of the sword with both hands while it was still over Dulnato’s head. The blade bit into his palms, and his roar turned into a scream of agony. He didn’t let go, though.

  Blood poured between his fingers. Dulnato elbowed Bowe in the face, and Bowe staggered back a bit but still he didn’t let go. Dulnato turned and kicked Bowe in the chest while pulling back on the sword. Bowe could no longer hold on.
The sword slid agonizingly from his hands and he fell backward. He ignored the pain and scrambled forward on his hands and knees, trying to get between Iyra and Dulnato. He knew it was hopeless—as hard as he tried, he couldn’t get his body to move fast enough. His hands left bloody palm prints on the ground and his knees kept slipping. But hopeless or not, he made it before Dulnato struck again. He placed himself in front of Iyra then turned around.

  It was only then he realized what had happened. Dulnato’s head was twisted back to look behind him. There, Nechil stood in the doorway with a bow in his hand and an arrow drawn fully back. Dulnato swayed slightly on the balls of his feet. He seemed to be making a decision.

  “Please,” Nechil said. “You don’t know how much I want you to make a move.”

  “Put down the sword.” The voice came from upstairs. It was Jadilla, though she had put the White Spider mask back on and was using the monotone voice. She took three steps down and stopped. “I will guarantee that you will have a better chance of survival by surrendering. You do not want to test Nechil.”

  “You know you shouldn’t trust the White Spider,” Nechil said. “Now is the chance to make your move.” He pulled the string on the bow back another notch, his hand vibrating from the strain.

  Dulnato dropped his sword and it rattled against the stone floor.

  “Nechil, bring him up,” the White Spider said. “And relax the tension in that bow.”

  Nechil kept the arrow pointed at Dulnato. His hand vibrated again.

  “Nechil!”

  Nechil relaxed the string, nodded toward the stairs, and followed Dulnato when he ascended.

  “There’s bandages up here,” the White Spider said before disappearing up the stairs.

  Bowe realized that he and Iyra were intertwined in the corner, their arms wrapped around each other. Iyra’s clothes were covered in his blood. He turned his palms up and looked at the bloody mess. “How come there’s no pain?” He’d been in agony while he gripped the sword, but now they just felt numb. But looking at all the cut skin and sinew and blood, he knew there should be pain. A lot of it.