[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm

by Morgan Howell

  Cara was gazing at an empty space before her. “Was it just last night that I had a hand there?” she asked in a mournful tone that tore at Yim’s heart. “It seems much longer than that.”

  With Cara’s words, all the horror of the previous night returned to Yim. “It was my fault, Cara. I’m so sorry.”

  “How was it your fault? You saved my life.”

  “Because those men never would have come if not for me.”

  “Perhaps that’s true. But you were supposed to come,” replied Cara. “And I’m glad you did, even though I think those men were supposed to come also. I believe that because my dreams last night were like your dreams. I saw things. True things. That was Rodric’s corpse in the tunnel. He was tricked by the Devourer’s servant, the same one who convinced the Sarf to kill you.” Cara smiled grimly. “Do na worry. That man’s powerless now. The only death he seeks is his own.”

  “So you’ve had a vision?”

  “Na a vision. The Old Ones showed me those things, using dreams as a kind of speech. They’re powerful, but also helpless. They know much, but na the future. That’s hidden. Even from Karm.” Cara sighed. “But they told me this: We’ll part today, for you must journey to Honus alone. I’ve played my role, and my clan needs me. Like the Old Ones, all I can do now is wait and hope.”

  Then it seemed to Yim that Cara was a changed woman. It wasn’t merely the missing arm; she had become someone wiser, quieter, and perhaps more melancholy. Cara’s brief stay with the Old Ones had altered her, and seeing that, Yim understood why Faerie was perilous to enter.

  The two women walked silently together for a long while among the giant trees. The Old Ones were nowhere to be seen, but Yim sensed their presence. It was a benign one. The ground was soft beneath her feet and a delicate breeze washed over her bare skin. It was a place of innocent pleasures. Under its influence, Cara’s mood seemed to lighten, and when a cloud of butterflies fluttered above, she gazed at them with the delight of a child. Then she spoke to Yim at last, sounding more like the exuberant and romantic Cara of old. “You will return, Yim. I know you will. And when you do, you must tell me everything . Na holding back. And na modesty either. Zounds, especially that! I will na stand for it!”

  Yim grinned. “I promise. And if my child’s a girl, I’ll name her Cara.”

  At sunset, Yim and Cara returned to the flat-topped stone, accompanied by a throng of Old Ones. There, the faeries gave Yim leaf-wrapped bundles of provisions that could be eaten without cooking, since they were aware that Yim had jettisoned her cooking pot and fire-making iron. Then they departed without ceremony, blending into the forest so quickly and quietly that they seemed to disappear. When the faeries were gone, Yim and Cara dressed.

  “I’ll walk with you to the boat,” said Yim to Cara.

  “I wish I were going with you,” said Cara. “I so wanted to see Honus’s face when he learns he’s the one.”

  “Cara! That will be a private moment!”

  “Oh, nay. He’ll know the moment he sets eyes on you.”

  Yim felt that Cara spoke the truth, and it made the lonely journey ahead seem less daunting. When the women reached the boat, they found it draped with flowers. A garland of yellow leaves sat on a seat. Yim took Cara’s extra clothes from the pack and waded out to the boat to place them there. When she retrieved her sandals, she noted that the oars were gone. Then Cara waded to the boat, placed the garland on her head, and climbed aboard. As soon as Cara was seated, Yim pushed the boat free from the gravel. As the vessel glided into the stream, Yim waded back to shore. There she slipped on her sandals and hurried along the bank, for an unseen force was quickly pulling the boat to the lake. As she ran, she waved to Cara. “Good-bye, good-bye!” she called out, feeling inexplicably sad.

  Cara called and waved back, seeming to be gripped by the same emotion. Eventually, she glided into the lake, stranding Yim on its shore. Cara continued to wave with her remaining hand, growing ever smaller until she was but a speck in a wide expanse of water that glowed with the shades of the evening sky.

  As the light began to fade, a crow landed on Yim’s shoulder. Yim smiled and said, “Hello, Kwahku. Are you to guide me again?”

  The bird cawed and flew to a tree branch in the distance. Despite her greeting to Kwahku, Yim felt hesitant to follow him, for she assumed that by doing so she was placing herself in the Old Ones’ power. Why worry about that now? You’ve done it before . Nevertheless, Yim remained put. The faeries seemed aware of her intentions and obviously placed their hopes in her. But are their goals the same as mine? Or Karm’s, for that matter? Yim had no way of telling. The Old Ones might know much, but they were closemouthed.

  After pondering the matter further, Yim felt forced to trust in the faeries’ benevolence. With Cara gone, following Kwahku offered her the best hope of reaching Honus. Thus Yim strode toward the waiting bird. Kwahku took off as soon as Yim reached him. He flew a short distance up a wooded slope, perched until Yim caught up with him, and then flew farther. He continued in that manner until it was dark. When Kwahku landed on a stony ledge and didn’t fly off again, Yim realized that she was supposed to camp there. She fed the crow some of the porridge grain, and opened a leaf-wrapped bundle for her dinner. It contained fresh spring strawberries and fall hazelnuts.

  The ledge provided a commanding view of the lake and the village near its shore. As Yim watched, a line of torches moved from the hall to the dock. Strains of music drifted up, mingled with cheers. Cara’s returned to her people , Yim thought, in a flower-filled boat from the realm of Faerie . She smiled, imagining what songs the bards would weave from such a magic night. Then Yim went to sleep and dreamed of Honus.

  Yim rose with the sun, ate a hasty meal with her feathered guide, and the two departed. Kwahku chose a rugged path, but Yim didn’t question his judgment. She was unarmed, and Lord Bahl wasn’t the only threat. Refugees had brought tales of savage feuding in the west, and more recently it was said that dark-haired women were in special danger. Thus Yim was anxious to travel unseen. The bird seemed to understand that.

  By concentrating on her guide, Yim gained little sense of the route she traveled, other than it seemed erratic. Sometimes Kwahku soared high up and disappeared for a long while before returning to show the next leg of the journey. Yim was confident that the bird would keep her safe, but she was less certain that he was aware of her need for speed. It would gain her nothing to arrive alive and find Honus slain. She knew that he would reach Tor’s Gate long before she did. Yim had no idea if Lord Bahl would be waiting when Cronin’s troops arrived. A battle could be raging at that very moment. The only thing Yim could do was walk as quickly as possible, so she did.

  Upon her first day of travel, Yim climbed the mountain above Cara’s lake, descended to the wooded valley on the other side, made her way along its length, ascended to a ridge, and followed its crest until sunset. Kwahku led her to a spot that was sheltered from the wind, but it was still cold. After eating, Yim gathered dried leaves. Then, wrapped in her cloak, she burrowed beneath them for warmth. The crow joined her to sleep.

  The next day of travel was a blur of anxiety and exhaustion. Descending from the ridge was as hard as climbing to its crest. The valley below was a maze of jumbled boulders, and late in the afternoon, Yim waded across a wide swamp. She wondered if a bird could understand how difficult it was to walk through calf-deep muck. After nearly losing her scandals twice, she ended up carrying them. By the time they stopped for the day, Yim was so tired that she fell asleep while eating.

  By the third day of travel, Yim lost any notion of where she was. Life was reduced to a matter of following the crow as her journey became a monotonous routine: Reach the bird, watch where he flew next, reach the bird again, and repeat over and over until it’s too dark to see. Yim had no idea of when the routine would end. For all she knew, it would stretch on for days. The following day was like the previous one. The only thing that changed was that the mountains were higher, but t
hat didn’t stop Kwahku from leading Yim up one of them. She spent her coldest night yet near its summit.

  The following morning, when Yim was descending the mountain’s other side, she was able to overlook the northwestern landscape. Below lay an irregular series of ridges, most of them too low to be called mountains. In the distance, beyond the jumble of heights and valleys, rose a range of formidable peaks. A few were so high as to be capped by snow. The mountains formed a solid wall except in one place. There, they were notched by a narrow valley surrounded by steep hills. Tor’s Gate! Yim thought, recognizing it from the maps.

  As Yim climbed down the slope, she was encouraged to have seen her destination, but discouraged by its distance. Although it was hard to estimate how long it would take to reach Honus, she feared it would require several days. When Yim reached the valley floor, walking became easier, and she made better time. In the afternoon, she reached a long, broad valley that was mostly cleared and filled with peasant holdings. Judging from the state of the crops, the land looked fertile.

  Up to that point, Kwahku had always avoided open places, but to Yim’s surprise he flew across a field and landed on the roof of the nearest dwelling. For a moment, Yim hesitated to follow him. “Don’t be silly,” she said aloud. “He won’t lead me astray now.” Yim headed for the house, which was similar to those that she had seen among Clan Dolbane. To reach it, she passed through a field of grain that was ready to harvest.

  When Yim arrived at the house, her guide didn’t fly off immediately, which was puzzling. Curious why the house was apparently abandoned, Yim entered it. A family awaited her inside. They were lying on the floor. The mother and father had been hacked and stabbed to death. Their seven children lay beside them, arranged in a neat line according to age, from an infant boy on the far left to a girl of thirteen winters on the right. Each had his or her throat slit. Yim burst out sobbing at the sight, distraught by such wanton cruelty. She ran outside, and Kwahku flew off.

  The crow soared over homes and abundant fields in a straight line, alighting far away in an apple tree heavy with fruit. Yim had an easy time reaching him, for a well-used road went in that direction. As soon as Yim reached the tree, the bird took off, leading her farther down the road. Though it was a relief to travel easily, Yim was devastated by the certainty that Kwahku chose the route because all the valley’s inhabitants were dead.

  By the time night fell, Yim had made good progress. Though there were empty homes nearby, Kwahku chose a sleeping spot in the woods. Yim was relieved that he did, marveling over the bird’s insight. How can a creature that kills only from necessity grasp human evil? Yim saw no reason for the destruction within the valley. All the crops here will rot and the houses will tumble down, and who will gain from it? The chilling answer arose in Yim’s mind. The Devourer . Then it seemed more urgent than ever to reach Honus in time.

  The following day, Kwahku continued leading Yim down the open road until midmorning, when he led her back into the wilds. Afterward, the way he took her became wildly irregular, causing Yim to believe that she was skirting danger and it was nearly everywhere. When night fell, the crow didn’t stop, but continued to guide Yim. Following a black bird at night wasn’t an easy task. Frequently, Kwahku had to call out so Yim could find him, even though he had alighted only a short distance away. It was well past midnight when he finally stopped. Yim gave the crow a few handfuls of grain and dozed off without eating.

  Shortly after Yim commenced traveling again, she crossed a barren hilltop and saw mountains. They appeared quite near, and Tor’s Gate was near also. It seemed that she would reach it before noon, and the prospect invigorated her. Yim picked up her pace, but when she next viewed the mountains, they seemed only a little closer. She ended up spending the night in the woods and rising at dawn determined to complete her journey before sunset. Throughout the day, Kwahku guided her on a circuitous route that seemed evidence that the countryside was rife with danger. Then at dusk, the bird alighted on a tree branch above the first living man that Yim had seen since leaving Faerie. He was a soldier standing guard.

  The soldier spied Yim and drew his sword. “Who goes about?”

  Yim advanced as Kwahku flew away. “I’m Yim,” she said.

  “So what? That means naught to me.”

  Assuming the soldier was new and wouldn’t know Honus either, Yim simplified her reply. “I’ve come with news for your general. Will you take me to him?”

  “I ken na leave my post, so ye must wait awhile.” He raised a wooden whistle to his lips and blew a short series of notes that imitated a birdcall. Soon afterward, another soldier appeared. He didn’t recognize Yim either. “This lass asks to see the general,” said the first soldier. “Says she has news.”

  The new arrival regarded Yim suspiciously. “Mayhap, ye do. Mayhap nay. Why are ye dressed as a Bearer?”

  “Because I am one.”

  The soldier appeared dubious. “Well, Bearer or nay, drop that pack and hold up yer arms.”

  Yim did as she was told, and the soldier pushed the pack away with his foot. Then he felt Yim for hidden weapons before shouldering the pack himself. “The countryside’s gone mad with feuding. How’d ye get here?”

  “Through Karm’s grace,” replied Yim.

  The soldier snorted. “Well, I’ll take ye to our general. He’s a shrewd one and sees through lies. Fer yer sake, ye best na be bearing one.” The soldier drew his sword and led Yim over open ground flanked by steep, wooded hills. As Yim walked, she spied a few soldiers but no encampment until her escort led her into a gap between two hills. There she saw a collection of tents, and also men who seemed to be living in the open. It was dark, but it appeared that there had been fighting already, for Yim spied some wounded men and passed one dead one.

  Yim’s guide took her to a cluster of large tents, which Yim assumed was Cronin’s headquarters. She feared that Cronin would want to talk with her awhile before taking her to Honus. So close to her goal, the thought of a further delay grated her. Be calm , she told herself. Soon I’ll be with Honus . But anticipation was agony, and Yim flushed with nearly unbearable excitement.

  Her escort halted before a tent that was flanked by guards. “This lass claims she has a message for the general,” he said. “I’ve checked her. She’s unarmed.”

  “I’ll take her from here,” said one of the guards. He grabbed Yim by the arm and led her into the tent. Inside was a sort of vestibule, with the far end of the tent shut off by a cloth partition. Yim could hear men’s voices behind it.

  Unable to contain herself any longer, Yim called out. “General Cronin! It’s me, Yim!”

  The cloth partition parted and Honus stepped out. “Cronin’s dead,” he said in a controlled voice. “I’m general now.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  OVER THE past days, Yim had imagined her reunion with Honus in countless variations, but none of them was like the actual moment. Honus struggled to keep his face neutral, but Yim saw a range of emotions pass over it. The first was shock, followed by concern and then sorrow. Suffused through them all was love, but she never caught a glimpse of happiness.

  The guard still gripped Yim’s arm. “General, do you know this woman?”

  “I do.”

  Yim heard a hint of tenderness in Honus’s voice. Then the partition parted further, and a dozen men peered at her. Some she knew as Cronin’s officers, but most were strangers. In the presence of those men, Honus’s face stiffened, and when he spoke again, his tone was formal. “Why are you here?”

  “The clan hall was attacked. Cara was wounded but has recovered.”

  “You came alone to tell me this?”

  “I’ve come because Karm sent me,” said Yim, also conscious of her audience. “The matter is both urgent and personal.”

  “We’re deploying for battle tonight. It’s a matter that can’t be postponed. I’ll speak with you as soon as possible.” Honus addressed the guard. “This woman is my Bearer, so honor her. Billet her in G
eneral Cronin’s tent and see to her comfort.” Then he stepped behind the partition and rejoined his officers.

  The guard bowed respectfully. “Please come, Karmamatus. I’ll see to your needs.”

  As she was being led away, Yim said, “General Cronin was my friend. Do you know what happened to him?”

  “He fell to a traitor with a poisoned blade,” said the guard. “The man was a clan chieftain whose mind was twisted by the black priests. He came to offer aid and instead slew the general and over half his staff. He would have killed them all if na for Honus.”

  “And why is Honus general now?”

  “He was made so by acclamation. Na soldier can match his experience or wisdom.”

  The guard opened the flap of a good-sized tent that was furnished with a folding cot and table. Cronin’s possessions were still there, and Yim had the impression that they had been left untouched. Gazing at them, she envisioned Cara’s grief upon hearing of her brother’s death. That image increased her own grief for the man who had treated her with kindness when she had been only a slave.

  “Can I get you anything, Karmamatus?”

  “My pack, please,” said Yim, “and some water for washing.”

  After the guard bowed and left, Yim sat on the cot. She was so disappointed and anxious that she feared she might burst out sobbing. However, the presence of strangers within earshot was inhibiting, and she certainly didn’t want Honus to find her weeping. So she waited and tried to follow Honus’s example by putting on a calm mask. A short while later, the guard returned with her pack, a small cooking pot filled with water, and a reasonably clean rag. After he departed, Yim washed the dirt from her hands, face, and arms before cleaning her legs and feet. Then she waited for Honus.

  Time passed with agonizing slowness, and whenever Yim heard footsteps, she thought they were Honus’s. As her wait dragged on, Yim’s fatigue got the better of her. She grew drowsy and lay down upon the cot. Then without intention, or even awareness that it was happening, she went to sleep.