[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm

by Morgan Howell

  Honus watched Yim with such reverence that she felt awkward and tried to steer his thoughts to more mundane matters. “Honus,” she said, “when do you think we’ll reach Cara’s hall?”

  “I’ve never followed a bird before. Perhaps you should ask our guide.”

  Yim stared into Kwahku’s black eyes for a moment. “He says five days as the crow flies.” Honus appeared awed until Yim laughed. “I’m teasing , Honus. You’ve been looking at me strangely all day. Stop acting so worshipful.”

  “Said by one who has faeries fetch her sandals.”

  “The girl did that, not I.”

  “After seeing what you did with that priest, it seems likely you could view a crow’s thoughts.”

  “Well, I can’t. I want to be treated like a woman, not a shrine. If you love me, you will.” Yim puckered her lips. “You can start by kissing me.”

  Honus kissed Yim, but in a restrained way that left her dissatisfied. Later, when they lay down to sleep, Yim reflected on Honus’s restraint. It depressed her. But what should I expect? He must restrain himself . Nevertheless, it bothered her that he could.

  Kwahku led Yim and Honus for six days over a rugged route. The hardships of travel helped distract Yim from her desire for Honus, but it was always present—an ember hidden among ashes. Yim worried it might flare into indiscretion if she let down her guard. Certain that Honus was undergoing the same trial, she felt that love both united and divided them.

  Not once in that entire time did they encounter another person, though they sometimes passed through settled places. Honus was often familiar with the terrain, but not always. One night they camped by a high waterfall that he had neither seen nor heard about. That evening, otters brought fresh-caught trout and laid them, still flopping, before the campfire. For a while, Yim worried that Honus would get his worshipful look again. He didn’t, and she was glad.

  Late in the afternoon of the sixth day, Yim and Honus crested a ridge and gazed upon a sizable lake nestled among the mountains. On a rise overlooking the far shore was a walled stronghold with a tiny village clustered around it. Beyond the village was a broad and disordered expanse of tents, makeshift shelters, and people camping in the open. From a distance, it resembled a blight that had spread over the surrounding fields. Smoke from its numerous fires smudged the sky. As Kwahku flew eastward and disappeared from sight, Honus pointed to the stronghold. “That’s Cara’s hall,” he said.

  The sight disheartened Yim. In her mind, Cara’s home had seemed a refuge from hostility. Seeing it ringed with people gave Yim pause. She had no idea why they were there. For all she knew, they might be a besieging mob. At the very least, they were likely refuges and fertile ground for the black priests to sow their lies.

  Yim made no effort to hide her discouragement from Honus. “So that’s where Cara lives,” she said in a heavy voice. “It seems we must run a gauntlet to reach her.”

  NINETEEN

  HONUS STUDIED the encampment surrounding the hall and village awhile before he spoke. “Things are less chaotic than they seem. Troops are bivouacked there, and I think folk have camped nearby for safety.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not certain. Most likely, war’s begun.”

  Honus’s words gave Yim a chill, and the sense of dread that she had felt throughout her journey increased. “But you think it’s safe to walk through the encampment?”

  “Probably,” replied Honus, “but I’d rather be cautious. I know a less open way to the hall.”

  Yim took a deep breath. “Then let’s go.”

  Honus led the way from the mountain ridge, heading for the eastern side of the lake. Despite Yim’s initial apprehensions, they encountered no one for a while. At first, they walked down a forested slope that obviously had been tended as a woodlot. Stumps marked where trees had been chopped down, and Honus quickly found a pathway. He followed it to a dirt road that led toward the lake.

  Before Honus and Yim reached the shoreline, the trees gave way to an open meadow. There they spied the first people they had seen in six days. They were three shepherds watching a flock of sheep. The men were sitting on the ground, but rose and bowed when they saw Yim.

  “That’s a good sign,” said Yim. “Let’s talk with them.”

  Honus led the way over to the men, who bowed again to Yim. “Greetings, Karmamatus,” said a tall, curly-headed fellow. “You’re a rare sight. Karm’s servants have been scarce of late.”

  “Small wonder with what’s about,” said one of his companions. “You’re a brave lass to take to the road, Sarf or nay.”

  “I’ve come to see your chieftain and her brother,” replied Yim. “Are they at the hall?”

  “Aye. Been there since shearing time,” said the curly-haired man. “But you’re lucky, for Cronin’s leaving soon to fight.”

  “And we’re going with him,” said the second shepherd, “if our chieftain will give us leave.”

  “Pardon me, Karmamatus,” said the third shepherd, “but is your Sarf Honus?”

  “He is.”

  The man turned to his companions. “I told you he was!” Then he spoke to Honus. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was with Cronin at Kambul. I’ll never forget what you did there.”

  “It was a hard fight,” said Honus.

  “Hard? Cronin would be dead if na for you. And the rest of us with him. When you charged ”

  Honus cut the man short. “My Bearer has urgent business in the hall, but I wonder about the folk surrounding it. Have the black priests mingled among them?”

  “Those dogs!” said the man. He spat on the ground. “Cronin slays every one of them he finds. But they’re a treacherous lot. ‘tis likely some have shucked their robes to spread their lies in secret.”

  Yim bowed to the men. “I’m heartened by your greeting and glad for your news. We should be off.”

  Honus immediately headed for the road, and Yim followed close behind him. “If spies are about,” she said, “we should try to avoid their gaze. I don’t wish to draw trouble to Cara.”

  “We won’t,” said Honus. “We’ll arrive through a secret entrance.”

  Honus followed the road around the lake’s eastern end until he reached a grove of trees upon its shore. There he left the pathway and found a place by the water’s edge where dense undergrowth screened them from view. “We can wait here until dusk,” he said.

  Yim took off the pack and sat down. She was glad for the rest, but anxious about what lay ahead. Lila had told her that “the end approaches” and Yim’s instincts confirmed it. It’ll begin in Cara’s hall , she thought. Parting the branches, she gazed across the water at her destination. From her closer viewpoint, the “stronghold” didn’t look formidable. Its walls were short of two stories high and there were no towers or a keep. It was the smallness of the homes in the surrounding village that made the hall seem large. Viewed more objectively, it was a modest manor protected by an equally modest wall.

  “How did you learn about the secret entrance?” asked Yim. “Have you visited here before?”

  “Yes. Theodus and I came several times.”

  “Why? I thought Cronin and Cara lived in Bremven.”

  “Clan business often brought them here.”

  “Of course,” said Yim. “Cara’s clan chieftain.”

  “She wasn’t chieftain until she attained her majority. Before then, a steward served.”

  Yim smiled and shook her head. “I still can’t imagine her as a chieftain.”

  “Tonight, you won’t need your imagination.”

  After the sun set, Honus and Yim left the grove and walked along the shoreline of the lake. Campfires glowed in the fields surrounding the hall and village, but the grounds near the lake were dark. As Yim and Honus drew nearer to the hall, the land beyond the beach rose up to form a long, sloping field that ended at the village’s edge. Near the shore was the roofless ruin of a small stone hut, and Honus headed there. He entered the hut, and Yim followed
him.

  The hut’s floor was made of stone. Honus pointed to the largest block, which was two paces long and half as wide. “That’s the entrance to the passageway,” he said. “I just hope I remember how to open it.” He studied the rough stones forming the wall awhile before he grabbed one and tugged at it. The stone slipped out a palm’s width before stopping. “This has to be done in the proper sequence,” he said, before pulling on a second stone. After Honus tugged three more, Yim heard a dull, scraping sound beneath her feet. Honus walked over to the block and pushed its narrower edge with his foot. The stone pivoted on its center to reveal an opening.

  Honus pushed the stones in the wall back into their original positions before he climbed down the opening. Yim heard him striking an iron with flint before a flame flared in the hole, and she could see him plainly. He was holding a torch that illuminated a stone-lined passageway. Iron rungs were set in one wall to form a ladder to the floor, which was covered with murky water that rose to Honus’s knees. Honus called up. “Do you want to toss down the pack?”

  “I can manage with it,” said Yim. She climbed down to join Honus.

  After Honus pushed the entrance stone back in place and reset the locking mechanism, he led the way up the narrow, dank passageway. “This dates back to the clan wars,” he said, “but it’s kept in repair.”

  Despite what Honus said, Yim found parts of the tunnel were crumbling, and even after they weren’t treading through water, the footing was treacherous. It seemed to her that they walked a long distance before their way was barred by a stout oak door. The walls on either side of it had slots for shooting arrows, and a chain extended from a hole in the ceiling. Honus pulled the chain several times, then waited.

  A long time passed before a voice called out the hole from which the chain dangled. “Who’s there?”

  “Honus and his Bearer, come to see the chieftain and her brother.”

  After Honus spoke, there was an even longer spell of silence before the oak door flew open and Cronin burst into the tunnel. “Honus!” he shouted, giving him a bear hug. Honus still held the burning torch, which prevented him from returning the hug, but he grinned broadly.

  Only when Cronin released Honus did he seem to notice Yim. Then his expression turned both surprised and puzzled. “You said you were with your Bearer,” he said to Honus.

  “I am,” replied Honus.

  “But how can this be? She’s your slave!”

  “No more,” replied Honus. “Yim’s my master now. As to how this came to be, you should ask her.”

  Cronin glanced at Honus as if to confirm that he wasn’t jesting. Then he bowed to Yim. “Pardon my confusion, Karmamatus.”

  “It’s understandable,” replied Yim. “Much has happened since we parted. Do you know the temple’s been destroyed?”

  “Aye, I heard and feared the worst for Honus. But now you’ve brought him here in the time of our greatest need. Surely, that’s Karm’s doing.” Yim said nothing, so Cronin spoke. “Well, there’s na point tarrying in this dank place. You must want food and drink. And Cara will be delighted to see you both. Come, Karmamatus, I’ll show the way.”

  A small room lay beyond the oak door. When Yim followed Cronin into it, she discovered it was also the bottom of a shaft. Two bowmen stood in it, but they had put away their arrows. Attached to the wall was a wooden ladder, which Yim and the others ascended.

  Yim found herself in what appeared to be a small subterranean storeroom, for it was windowless and piled with various goods. Cronin led her and Honus through a succession of such rooms until he reached a set of rough wooden stairs. They climbed these and entered a pantry. Beyond it was a kitchen, its table piled high with dirty pots and bustling with activity.

  Cronin turned to Yim and said, “‘tis na the grandest of entrances, Karmamatus, but you’ve come by the back way.”

  “I’m glad to have come here by any way I could, and please call me Yim.”

  “You’ve risen in the world,” said Cronin. “I did na wish you to think that I had na noticed.”

  “She hasn’t risen,” said Honus, “for she was always holy. But now that holiness has been revealed.”

  Yim saw Cronin cast Honus a questioning look that quickly disappeared from his face. When he regarded her again, he smiled graciously. “The evening meal is in progress. Would you honor us with your presence, or would you rather refresh yourself before supping?”

  “We’ve traveled hard and look it,” replied Yim, “but we’d be glad to dine among friends.”

  “Then we’d be glad, too,” said Cronin. He led the way out of the kitchen into a long room that appeared to be an entrance hall. It had a high ceiling, wood-paneled walls containing several doorways, and a flagstone floor. A pair of large double doors, bolted for the night, lay at the far end. They faced a broad but short stairway leading to another set of double doors carved with hunting scenes. Those doors were open, and beyond them was a banquet hall.

  Cronin escorted them there. A meal was in progress, and though most of the hall was empty, the head table was crowded with about a dozen diners. It was raised, and Yim could see Cara seated at its center in a thronelike wooden chair with a high back. The place to her right—Yim assumed that it was Cronin’s—was vacant. Cara was the only woman at the table. Yim remembered many of the men there from her stay at the Bridge Inn. Army officers , she thought.

  Yim’s gaze returned to Cara, who had yet to see her. Her friend seemed transformed, at least in appearance. Upon her head was a thin gold circlet. She wore a gray-green gown with a square low-cut neckline and a sash of dark green plaid that was pinned at the shoulder by a brooch in the shape of a tree. Like the circlet, it was golden. Cara’s demeanor matched her regal attire. When Yim thought of Cara’s face, she recalled it as animated and often impish. Yet the woman at the table appeared dignified and even grave, indeed a chieftain. Yim felt somewhat disappointed.

  Cronin preceded Yim up the stairway, and announced in a loud voice, “We are honored tonight by a visit from one of Karm’s Bearers, Yim, and her Sarf, Honus.”

  Cara looked up, and all of her former animation briefly passed over her features. She was in turn surprised, delighted, puzzled, and curious. Then she forced her expression into a semblance of gravity, though she grinned too broadly to seem genuinely grave as she rose and bowed. “Welcome, Karmamatus. You honor us.”

  Yim returned the bow. “Karm sees your generosity, and we’re grateful for your hospitality.” It felt strange to speak formally when she wanted to rush up to Cara and hug her, but she sensed formality suited the occasion best.

  Cara turned to both her left and right, addressing those who sat there. “Please make places for my guests. They’ve been much on my mind, and I wish them close.”

  Only Cara had a chair; the others at the table sat on two long benches, so her guests simply slid down them to make spaces. Most did so graciously, but Yim noted that the middle-aged man to Cara’s right seemed annoyed to lose his place. As she made this observation, Honus whispered in her ear. “Call Cara ‘Clan Mother,’ that’s how the Urkzimdi address their chieftain.”

  When Yim approached the head table, Cara gestured to her right. “Please take the place of honor, Karmamatus.”

  “Thank you, Clan Mother, but please call me Yim.”

  “All right, Yim.” Cara’s eyes twinkled from a suppressed smile. “And you must call me Cara.”

  When Yim sat down, Cara tightly gripped her hand. “It’s good to see you. When I heard about the temple, I feared But what does that matter now? Look at you! A Bearer! And Honus ” Cara gazed at him as he took the place to her left, and for a moment she was at a loss for words. She studied him, then turned to study Yim, who felt her face redden as she was being scrutinized. “Zounds!” she exclaimed at last. “You’ve both changed, and I thought my life was eventful.” She clapped her hands. “Food and drink for our honored guests.” As servants scurried forth with both, Cara said, “You popped in unexpectedly
and caught us as we truly live these days, eating porridge and drinking watered ale. Tomorrow we shall feast you properly. By Karm, it’ll be good to make merry, or at least pretend to. And while you dine on tonight’s poor fare, I’ll have a place readied for you.” She lowered her voice to an intimate tone. “Well, Yim, will you be needing two beds or one?”

  “Two,” replied Yim in an even lower voice, “in separate rooms.”

  Cara appeared disappointed by Yim’s reply, but she quickly perked up. “Well, then we can talk all night!”

  Yim suspected that Cara wasn’t exaggerating.

  TWENTY

  CARA WASN’T exaggerating about the humbleness of the repast. The main course was porridge mixed with bits of mutton and diced roots. There was also roasted whiteroot and loaves of brown bread, both in quantities that added more variety than substance to the meal. The ale was heavily watered, and the diners were sober in fact as well as demeanor. But Yim guessed that the quality of the food and drink weren’t the cause of the table’s subdued atmosphere. The mood reminded her of the meal at the Bridge Inn on the night Cronin had told his officers that they were returning home to defend it from invasion.

  Yim gazed about the hall as she ate. It was fairly large, but simple in construction and decoration. The walls were paneled with wood that had turned dark brown from smoke and age. A huge stone fireplace took up the center of one wall, but no fire burned in front of its blackened stones. Torches that resembled huge rushlights provided illumination. They were set around the wall in sconces and upon the table in iron holders. The high roof was supported by massive wooden trusses that were festooned with long garlands of flowers. Obviously relics from an earlier occasion, they were dried and brown.

  The evening didn’t seem fit for small talk, and Yim engaged in none. “Why is this place surrounded by folk living outdoors?”

  “Brother has gathered all men who’ll fight against Lord Bahl,” said Cara. “Many were loath to leave their families because of the feuds, so they’ve brought them here. The others are folk who’ve fled from trouble. We provide for them as best we can.”