[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm

by Morgan Howell

  The Sarf reined his horse to a stop and dismounted before bowing to Yim. “Greetings, Karmamatus.”

  Yim returned his bow. “Greetings. I’m Yim.”

  “Honus, do you remember me?” asked the Sarf.

  “You were to be Daven’s Sarf when I was last at temple. How fares he?”

  “Fallen. I’m Gatt.”

  “What sends you to us, Gatt?” asked Yim. Gatt ambled toward Yim with an easy manner, smiling more broadly than seemed natural for a Sarf. “Karm sent me.”

  Yim was about to reply when both Gatt and Honus burst into action. Their bodies seemed to blur, and the air about them flashed as blades sped through it. There was a metallic clang, and for an instant, Yim saw two crossed swords. The edge of Gatt’s blade was aimed toward her neck. Honus’s sword blocked its path. Then the blades blurred again as the two men began fighting. Yim stood transfixed by shock until Honus shouted, “Flee, Yim!” Then he turned all his attention to his foe.

  Yim retreated a distance, but she didn’t run away. She was terrified and confused by what was happening; yet the battle in progress was an engrossing sight. She had seen Honus fight before, but never against such an opponent. Both attacked and parried with dazzling swiftness and mingled their blows with feats of acrobatic skill. The fight had the grace of a vicious dance and the energy of a cyclone. There were no taunts or curses, no words of any kind; both men fought in silent concentration, fully engaged in a deadly game of lightning moves. They were so intent on their contest that neither man’s face bore any expression other than the one tattooed upon it: Honus seemed wrathful. Gatt appeared stern and harsh. Yim dared not speak for fear of distracting Honus and causing his death.

  The combat dragged on, and after a while, Yim perceived a pattern. Both opponents were evenly matched, but they seemed to have different objectives. Yim saw that Gatt was fighting to reach her while Honus was struggling to bar his way. As soon as she saw that, Yim shed the pack and darted off, for she realized that her presence endangered Honus. As she sped down the road, the clash of swords continued briefly, then stopped. Yim spun around to see what had happened. Gatt was bounding after her, his blade raised to strike. Honus was in pursuit.

  Yim knew she couldn’t outrun the Sarf. She dashed for the river, and without further thought, jumped in. As she passed through emptiness, she felt a gentle tug on her flowing hair. Then she hit the water. Yim gritted her teeth, fearing she might strike a hidden rock. Instead, cold shocked the breath from her as she plunged beneath the river’s turbulent surface. The current gripped her like a huge, icy hand intent on holding her from breath and life. Yim struggled against it, impeded by her sandals and waterlogged garments. She broke through the frothing surface and gasped for air. The Sarf was standing on the bank, his sword still extended. A clump of Yim’s severed hair floated down to vanish in the surging current. Then Honus arrived, and the two Sarfs resumed their fight. As the river swept her away, Yim watched their contest. Then a watery curtain obscured the scene as she sank into the depths.

  The Yorvern had saved Yim from the Sarf, but it threatened to drown her. She had learned to swim in a highland lake; a raging river was far different. Its current fought her every movement, rushing her downstream and clawing at her clothing. She was at its mercy until she kicked off her sandals and shed her garments. The latter was difficult, but once she was free of them she could move unencumbered and the current had less to grip. Yim swam toward a tiny island, but the river swept her past it. She aimed for another and missed it also.

  A boulder loomed downstream. Yim fought toward it. This time, she reached her target only to be slammed against it. It was a bruising collision, and then Yim had to claw at the rock to prevent being pulled from it. Her refuge was wet and slippery; moreover, she was numbed by cold. Climbing onto the rock was a struggle that she almost lost. Twice, she slipped back into the foaming water before reaching safety.

  Naked, scraped, and shivering, Yim huddled upon the rock while her fate was being decided. The river had carried her far enough downstream that Honus and Gatt were hidden from view. From the sound of ringing steel Yim knew that their fight continued. The swords made lethal music with an irregular cadence, and as long as Yim could hear it she knew the opponents lived. Thus she both longed for its end and dreaded it, for silence would most likely signal death. If Honus dies, I will, too .

  The sky darkened, and still the swords rang. The trees on the shore blurred into inky shadows that blended with the hills behind them. Suddenly, the only sounds Yim heard were watery ones. The quiet was ominous, and she strained to hear any hint of the battle’s outcome. For a long while, Yim heard nothing. Then hoofbeats broke the stillness. As they faded away, Yim slumped her head and wept.

  TEN

  A VOICE called from the dark. “Yim!”

  Its faintness conjured up images of Honus lying mortally wounded. “Honus?” Yim shouted. “Honus, are you all right?”

  After a period of agonizing silence, Yim heard the voice again. This time it was louder. “Yim, where are you?”

  “Over here!” she shouted. “On a rock in the river!”

  Another spell of silence was broken at last by Honus’s voice. It sounded closer. “Yim, where are you?”

  “Here! Are you all right?”

  “I’m unscathed,” called Honus from the shore. “Gatt has fled.”

  Yim peered at the bank, but the moon had yet to rise, and the shore was only a formless patch of shadow. She wondered if Honus could see her nakedness. Honus called out again. “Can you swim to shore?”

  “Bring my cloak first!”

  “I will.”

  While Yim waited on the rock, she steeled herself for another swim. The dark river seemed a gray void with mist flowing over it. Already chilled, Yim dreaded plunging in. Then she heard Honus. “I have it, Yim.”

  Yim jumped and the river seized her. This time, she swam obliquely toward the shore, rather than opposing the current. The frigid water swept her around one bend and then toward a second one with a gravel beach. Yim swam toward the beach. Nearing it, she could make out Honus’s dark form against the gray. The cold turned her limbs leaden as she struggled to reach the shore.

  Yim made it. By the time she staggered onto the gravel, she was too cold and exhausted to care that she was nude. Honus rushed forward and covered her with the cloak. Then he wrapped his arms around her trembling torso, pressing his hot cheek again her frigid one. He said nothing, but the ferventness of his embrace betrayed his feelings.

  As always, Yim felt uncomfortable when Honus showed affection. Yet this time she didn’t stop him. He saved my life , she thought. At least, I owe him this . Eventually, Honus sensed Yim’s awkwardness and released her. “Why did that man attack us?” asked Yim.

  “I can only guess,” replied Honus.

  “Didn’t he say anything?”

  “No more than what you heard.”

  “But how did you know he’d attack?”

  “His manner was wrong,” replied Honus. “His bow to you wasn’t low, and he spoke to me without your permission. A Sarf would never show such disrespect to a Bearer.”

  “So he wasn’t a Sarf?”

  “Oh, Gatt’s a Sarf. No question of that. But I doubt he believes you’re a Bearer.”

  “Maybe I’m not,” said Yim. “Not really.”

  “You are by all that’s holy.”

  “How could he know that?”

  “Whether he could or not, he had no cause to slay you.”

  “But that’s what he meant to do,” said Yim. Then, in a quiet voice, she added, “This isn’t over, is it?”

  “No,” said Honus. “But before you come to harm, he’ll have to slay me first.”

  Yim returned to the pack and put on dry clothes. When the moon rose, she shouldered her burden. There was no question of resting anytime soon. Honus advised getting far from the road by a route that couldn’t be followed on horseback. That meant climbing the hills at night. Having los
t her sandals, Yim would have to do it barefoot. She felt discouraged by the prospect.

  At first, Honus followed the road. When he reached a particularly steep and rocky slope, he left the highway and began to climb, saying, “Follow close behind and place your feet where I do.”

  Yim did her best, fearing that Gatt was as adept at tracking as Honus. If that were true, then his skills would be formidable. She remembered Honus saying that it was difficult to hide a trail at night, so she was particularly mindful of where she placed her feet. Nevertheless, as time wore on, Yim’s exhaustion and the dark worked against her. Whenever possible, Honus walked on stony ground that would leave no footprints. This practice left Yim footsore, despite having trekked through Luvein unshod.

  Yim was panting by the time the ground became less steep. Though trees hid the path ahead, Yim assumed they had reached a ridgeline and the way would be easier. “Thank Karm for a level path at last!” she said.

  “Your gratitude is premature,” said Honus. “An easy path is a likely path. We dare not take it.”

  “Honus, I don’t think I can go much farther.”

  “Perhaps I should carry the pack awhile.”

  As soon as Honus made the suggestion, Yim saw why it went against tradition. Honus was her sole protection. Encumbered by a pack or even wearied after bearing one, he would be less effective. “No,” said Yim. “But we must rest soon. Pick our way with that in mind.” She didn’t say that she doubted that they would evade the Sarf for long. Whatever way we take , thought Yim, must end with someone’s death .

  Leading the way, Honus headed down the western side of the ridge. He didn’t go far, but the route he took was much more difficult than the one he used to reach the ridge’s crest. The final leg involved descending a stretch of nearly vertical rock wall. There, Yim relented and let Honus bear the pack. Even climbing down without it, she nearly fell. They camped without the benefit of a fire beneath an overhanging ledge near the top of the cliff. There wasn’t enough room to lie down and Yim slept sitting up, leaning against Honus.

  Dawn came all too soon. Yim rubbed her eyes wearily, for throughout her short sleep she had kept waking, certain that Gatt was sneaking up on them. Each time she woke, Yim would listen anxiously until fatigue overcame her fear and she dozed off. Honus also stirred with the light. He had been awake every time Yim had been, and she wondered if he had slept at all.

  Yim opened the pack and searched for something that could be eaten without cooking. She came up with a leaf-wrapped package of smoked fish that Maryen had given them. She and Honus shared the fish in silence. As Yim ate, she surveyed the countryside. The ledge on which they sat was high up on the ridge’s slope. Viewed in daylight, their perch seemed precarious, and Yim grew dizzy when she peered at the drop below.

  The ledge afforded a good view, and from its vantage point Yim saw that they had entered the highlands. To the north, she glimpsed a portion of the Yorvern River and Luvein beyond it. Trees hid the road and a nearby ridge hid the rest of the river. That ridge, like the one they were on, snaked southward, rising gradually before joining a small mountain. To the west were higher mountains, their peaks rising like waves on a choppy lake. They faded off in the distance without seeming to end. Yim pointed to them. “Is that Averen?”

  “It is.”

  “I assume we won’t use the road to get there.”

  “Our path is yours to choose,” replied Honus.

  “But the easiest route to Cara’s won’t be the safest.”

  “I think not.”

  “Then we’ll go another way,” said Yim. “Can you get us through the mountains?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then find the path that’s most likely to lose our pursuer.”

  When Yim and Honus finished eating, they climbed the cliff and continued their journey. Honus led, walking in a meticulous way to prevent leaving a trail. He avoided soft ground and took care not to snap sticks, tread on plants, or dislodge stones. He also chose the least likely route. That usually meant selecting the hardest one. Although daylight made it easier for Yim to mimic Honus, she lacked his long-honed skill. Moreover, fatigue and the heavy pack made her clumsy. Every time she made a misstep and crushed a plant or left a footprint, she envisioned Gatt discovering her error and hurrying after them.

  Noon found Yim and Honus on the mountain they had viewed in the morning. Because its slopes were forested, they seldom had a commanding view. It usually seemed that they were walking in a wood where the stony ground tilted sharply. Yet every once in a while they encountered a stretch of bare limestone and looked out from a lofty viewpoint. Then Yim saw that the country ahead consisted of a series of mountainous ridges, their forms softened by trees. Only the most distant peaks were bare at their tops. Honus pointed into the hazy distance. “That valley belongs to Cara’s clan.”

  Try as she might, Yim couldn’t distinguish the place Honus was pointing out. “Is it far?” she asked.

  “If we were taking the direct path, I’d say a five-day journey.”

  “But you plan to climb every mountain on the way.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Honus, “but there’ll be hard walking.”

  Yim sighed. “I thought as much.” She glanced at Honus and caught an expression of tender concern before he could hide it. She forced a smile. “We’ll have such grand tales when we greet Cara and Cronin.”

  By afternoon, Honus and Yim had circumvented the mountaintop and begun the descent down its southern side. Honus seemed familiar with the terrain, for he never hesitated when choosing the route. Halfway down to the valley below, they traversed an immense field of bare rock. Yim had the impression that a giant had carved soil and trees from the mountainside as one might slice into the breast of a roasted fowl to expose a slab of white meat. Honus chose a route that crossed the center of the incline. The slope was steep, but the stone was rough and provided sure footing. They had nearly crossed the open expanse and reached a wooded slope when Yim made a disconcerting discovery.

  “Honus! I’m leaving a trail!”

  Honus turned and immediately spotted a line of small bloody spots on the pale rock. “How long have your feet been bleeding?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Yim. “They’ve been sore awhile.”

  “This is my fault!” said Honus, his voice bitter.

  “Oh, so it was you who lost my sandals. I thought I kicked them off in the river.”

  “I should have chosen a softer path.”

  “Then we would have left prints of a different kind. Honus, there’s such a thing as fate. If it’s Karm’s will, we’ll escape.”

  “Your right, Karmamatus. I should have more faith.”

  “But let’s try not to leave a trail. The goddess doesn’t favor fools.”

  Honus grinned. “That was Theodus’s favorite saying.”

  The field of barren rock afforded a good view of the valley between the mountain and the next peak. A narrow river meandered through its center. It was so shallow that its bottom was clearly visible. Honus pointed to it. “When we reach the valley, that river will be our pathway. There we’ll needn’t worry about leaving footprints.”

  When Honus started off again, Yim detected a change in his tactics. He set a more rapid pace, avoided stony ground, and chose an easy route down to the valley. As a consequence, they soon reached the valley floor and then the river. Unlike the Yorvern, it had a lazy current and was never more than knee-deep. Honus removed his sandals, entered the water, and began to wade downstream. Yim followed. The cool water and sandy riverbed felt good to her sore feet. They progressed westward for a way until they had a good view of the mountainside and the expanse of bare rock that they had traversed only a short while before. Then Honus left the river and sat amid a clump of bushes.

  Yim joined him. “Why are we stopping?”

  “If Gatt’s on our trail, we’ll see him when he crosses that open place above.”

  “Do you think he’s followin
g us?”

  “I’m certain he’s trying. I need to know if he’s succeeding.”

  Yim gazed apprehensively at the mountainside. “I don’t see him.”

  “We had a long head start. Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

  Yim stared at the mountainside briefly before lying down. Soon she slept.

  Yim felt Honus’s hand gently shake her shoulder. She opened her eyes. It was dusk. “Look at the mountainside,” said Honus.

  The field of bare rock appeared gray in the failing light. At first, Yim saw nothing. Then a dark speck caught her eye. It resembled a spider scrambling across a rock. Her heart sank. “Gatt!”

  “We’ll wait until he enters the forest,” said Honus. “Then we’ll head downstream. We’ll be safe, Yim. Even a Sarf can’t follow a trail at night.”

  “Yes. We’ll be safe,” said Yim in the desperate hope that uttering those words would make them true.

  ELEVEN

  YIM AND Honus waded downstream as quickly as they could. There was no need to proceed cautiously; the current would erase any trace of their passage. They progressed this way until the moon rose. Then Honus began looking for side streams. When he found one that seemed suitable, he began to walk up it. Yim followed, trying her best to leave no trail. After a while, the ground began to rise. Soon they were climbing the slope of another mountain and Honus abandoned the stream as a path. “There’s no point in trying to hide our trail from here on,” said Honus. “Our best hope is that Gatt won’t spot where we left the river.”

  The two climbed awhile longer, then stopped for the night at a pile of boulders at the base of a cliff. Yim and Honus nestled between two massive blocks of stone and had their first meal since morning. It was what Honus called “battle porridge,” uncooked grain and water. After they ate their gritty meal, they slept huddled together.

  The next morning they rose at first light, and Honus led the way up the mountain and down into the adjacent valley. It was heavily wooded. When Honus encountered a wide brook, it became their pathway. Yim had no idea if it headed toward Cara’s lands. By that point, she didn’t care, for she was far more concerned with escaping Gatt. When they camped that night, dining again on battle porridge, she prayed that they had succeeded.