The Harrowing Path

by Cleave Bourbon

  As the night grew long and the patrons in the common room had either gone to bed or gone home, the rest of Lady Shey’s party finally decided to turn in for the night. Devyn sat down in a chair near the main dining table to rest a moment and get off his feet. He was exhausted; the stores of ale had dwindled to just eight barrels, which would last the inn just about long enough for the trip to Symbor and back. He was so tired that he had almost forgotten that Kelle had stopped him during the course of the evening and wanted to talk to him before he turned in. He was tired enough to avoid speaking to her altogether, but he reluctantly pulled himself up from the chair and made his way to where she was still working. As he neared the kitche, it dawned on him that she must have found out about the trip to Symbor and was probably worried about it. How did she find out? Dread suddenly welled up inside him as he pushed open the kitchen door. Kelle was cleaning up alone.

  “Kelle,” Devyn began, “what did you want to talk to me about? I have to be up at first light.”

  “I know,” Kelle replied in a stern voice as she slammed some pots and pans into the washbasin. “Were you planning on telling me about this Symbor trip, or were you just going to be gone when I woke?”

  “I would have told you before I left. I have just been so busy since Lady Shey arrived.”

  “Stop right there, Devyn Adair. We had many opportunities to talk, and you avoided me.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was busy.”

  “All right.”

  Devyn put his hand on Kelle’s shoulder. “Kell, I...”

  Kelle pulled her shoulder away. “Go, Devyn, I am too busy,” she said.

  Slowly Devyn turned back to the kitchen door, unsure if Kelle really wanted him to leave or if she was about to become angrier because he was leaving. Girls were so confusing, but he did not have the luxury of time to contemplate what she meant, so he decided to go to bed and talk to her in the morning.

  As Devyn left the kitchen, he heard Lady Shey’s voice coming from the private dining hall over more pots and pans crashing loudly. He peeked in to see who she was talking to and saw the town elder women seated around the table sipping tea. Lady Shey said something about Sanmir the Apothecary then abruptly stopped and stared directly at the door. Devyn moved away, hoping she had not seen him. He decided he was not interested in what the women folk had to say; it probably had something to do with men. They were never satisfied with what the menfolk were up to anyway. Devyn yawned, stumbled tiredly to his bedchamber, and fell asleep on his bed without even getting into his nightclothes.

  Chapter 3: The Apothecary

  Devyn was awakened by a tapping at his window. He opened his eyes and rose angrily, searching for the source of the irritation. Faint noises growing stronger, much like the sound of beating wings, startled him lucid. He jumped from his bed to peer out the window. Searching the darkness of the street below, he thought he saw Fadral scurrying out from the shadow of the inn. He flipped the latch clasping the windows shut, swung them open, and leaned out to call to him. Crisp mountain air rushed inside and made him shiver. The street below was barren, and Devyn listened for the beating sound that woke him but heard nothing. He yawned sleepily and pulled the windows closed. He reached for the window clasp and began to latch it when he caught the sight of a dark figure swooping down from the roof of the inn, gliding silently to the street. The tall figure loomed hunched over, and then it straightened. Its body was tall, too tall. It looked as if it wore a long cloak. Devyn opened the windows again to get a better look. The cloaked figure stood silently, unmoving. Devyn strained to call out, but his words froze in his throat. The hair on the back of his neck began to creep up, and goose pimples covered his arms. Fear gripped him as the figure’s cloak shimmered, moving outward and upward like two colossal bat wings. Instinctively, Devyn took a knee to hide beneath the window and out of the creature’s line of sight.

  From his crouched position, Devyn blinked and rubbed his eyes with his fists, but the apparition remained. Without warning, the creature’s head turned to look directly at his window, and Devyn trembled in fright as he saw two red eyes staring back at him. He backed away from the window, stumbling over his own feet and falling to the floor with a thud. The sound of beating wings returned, and Devyn clawed at his bed trying to get up. The noise abated, and Devyn was surprised to see a hideous maw with long fangs inset within a twisted black face that stretched like leather over a deformed skull, elongated and gaunt. It appeared to have two small slits where a nose should have been and spiny bones jutting out around the eyes and jaw. He tried to scream, but fear froze his throat tight. The creature moved to get into the small window, but it had trouble folding its wings close enough around its body to squeeze in. It saw Devyn and made a high-pitched whine of glee as it tried to claw its way inside to get at him.

  Devyn frantically searched his room in vain for something to defend himself with. He rushed the window in an attempt to force it shut. The creature coughed and hacked at the boy as it still tried to get in, and Devyn felt something thick and wet hit his chest. He stumbled as he backed away from the window, pushing with his feet as hard as he could. Then, as the creature finally began to force itself through the window, its face twisted in pain and it let out a chilling squeal. It backed itself out of the window with haste and squealed again. With two beats of its bat-like wings, it took flight and was gone.

  For a long moment, Devyn sat against his bed motionless except for the heaving of his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He was too afraid to move. As his courage slowly returned, he moved to the window and peered out. He saw someone who looked like Sanmir standing in the street.

  “Devyn, is that you, lad?” he heard a voice say. It was Sanmir the Apothecary.

  “Aye,” Devyn called back, “what was that thing? Did you see it?”

  Sanmir motioned to Devyn. “Come down here; we need to get you to my shop at once!”

  “What?” Devyn asked confused.

  “Come quickly, boy. You are in danger!”

  Devyn looked down at his tunic and watched, horrified as the front of it seemed to disintegrate before his eyes. A sharp sting burned his chest. “What is it?” Devyn shrieked.

  “No time to explain. Move!”

  Devyn rushed out his door and down the stairs, surprised that no one had been awakened by the creature’s squeals. He met Sanmir in the street, and the tall Darovan elf grabbed Devyn’s tunic and ripped it from his body with one hard tug. He clutched Devyn’s arm and pulled him along behind him. Devyn tried to keep up, but he kept jamming his feet on the cold cobblestones.

  “What are you doing, Sanmir? You are hurting my arm, not to mention my toes.”

  “Hush up, boy, stop whining and come along, quickly, quickly. There is no time!”

  Devyn began to get worried, and his chest burned as they moved. Sanmir’s apothecary shop was not far to the north of the inn, and as soon as they reached it, Sanmir opened the painted wooden door and thrust Devyn inside. The light from the fireplace and various lanterns hanging from beams in the ceiling illuminated a room covered floor to ceiling with shelves full of bottles and jars. Devyn looked down at his chest and found it red and burning; blood oozed, and raw skin began to flay away.

  Sanmir took one of the jars down from a rear shelf and pulled something out that appeared to be yellow mud. With his two forefingers, Sanmir splattered the yellow mud on to the burn on Devyn’s chest and rubbed it in. It felt cool to the touch, and the pain of the burn subsided. “What was that thing, Sanmir?” Devyn asked again.

  Sanmir continued rubbing the yellow mud deeper into Devyn’s damaged skin. “Some might call it a Shadow Lurker and some a Drasmyd Duil.” He wiped the yellow substance from his hands on a nearby cloth. “A nasty creature. You’re lucky, boy.

  “Where did it come from?”

  Sanmir put the jar back on the shelf. “Scarovia or Abaddonia, I would imagine. Drasmyd Duil are creatures the dark wielder Toborne and his mentor created as spies and assassi
ns.”

  “But why would it come after me?”

  Sanmir’s expression turned thoughtful. “Why indeed.”

  “Sanmir?”

  Sanmir’s thoughtfulness faded. “Perhaps you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps it felt it needed to get at you because you saw it.” Sanmir suddenly seemed irritated. “It could have been after you for many reasons.”

  Devyn did not entirely accept Sanmir’s explanation but dared not question him further on the matter. “Will...will I be all right then?” Devyn looked at the yellow mud on his chest.

  “Aye, that salve will draw out the poison and stop the pain.”

  “Poison? It poisoned me?”

  “Some Drasmyd Duil cough up a poison that eats away at the flesh. It is very difficult for them to produce, so they only spit it under extreme circumstances.” Sanmir’s pointed ears twitched. “Better not say anything about this to anyone in the village; it will put everyone in a fright.” Sanmir scratched his head. “I don’t believe anyone else noticed it; none that I could see anyway.”

  “But Sanmir, it got away. What if it attacks someone else?” Devyn asked.

  “Don’t worry; it won’t. I doubt it will survive more than an hour.” He leaned in and smiled devilishly. “You see, I have dealt with its kind before.”

  “What did you do?” Devyn asked.

  “Never you mind that, boy, just suffice it to say those creatures don’t venture near Darovan anymore.” Sanmir winked.

  Devyn suddenly felt dizzy and had trouble standing upright. He pulled up a nearby chair and sat down.

  “Careful, boy, that salve has a tendency to make one drowsy.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Even if I told you it wouldn’t mean much to you. It’s best to leave its contents to me. Why don’t you sit back, and I will get the door.”

  Devyn heard a knocking at the door, and he wondered if someone had been tapping on it before Sanmir went to answer it. “Who would be coming around this time of night?” Devyn heard himself say as if he were somehow detached from his body. Devyn blinked; his vision was blurring. “Sanmir, I...” Devyn slipped into a euphoric state. Everything around him seemed as a dream.

  “It’s about time you stopped by,” Devyn heard Sanmir say. “I wondered when you would come around here again.”

  “I had to wait until Dellah Adair was satisfied that I was comfortable in my room before I could slip away,” Devyn heard a familiar voice say.

  “It is good to see you, Shey,” Sanmir said. “It has been far too long.”

  Devyn tried to stand again, but his legs would not support him. He saw Lady Shey as if he were looking at her from the end of a long tunnel.

  “What happened to the boy?” Lady Shey asked worried. “Is he well?”

  “He will be fine; in fact, he will soon be sleeping. He had a nasty run-in with a Shadow Lurker.”

  Lady Shey’s voice turned frantic. “We have to get him away from Brookhaven with all haste. Obviously, it isn’t safe here any longer,” she said.

  “Where will you take him?” Sanmir asked bluntly. “Do you know where the Drasmyd Duil came from?”

  “I have my suspicions. I will fill you in on my travels soon enough.” She watched Devyn for a moment, and he made sure he shut his eyes. “In the morrow, we will journey to Symbor. Ianthill made it clear to me to travel through Cedar Falls; he has instructed me to stay the night there.”

  “Why Cedar Falls?”

  “Ianthill was vague on that point, I’m afraid,” Lady Shey answered. “But I think he means to meet up with us there.”

  “He is sure of your persuasive abilities.”

  “Naturally, although I didn’t have to do much persuading. Lourn is sending the boy to Symbor anyway. I just had to hitch a ride.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “I promised to help stock the inn. He couldn’t refuse.”

  “No, I suppose he had a hard time saying no to that.”

  Devyn fought sleep with all of his might, but it took all of his strength to do so.

  “I hope you took care of that Shadow Lurker?” Lady Shey said, cutting her eyes at Sanmir.

  “Aye,” Sanmir replied, “it won’t get far.” Lady Shey remained silent for a long moment, but she did not take her eyes off Sanmir. “No one else saw it if that’s what you’re thinking,” the apothecary assured her. “I hit it with a dart full of Dar’s fire. A preparation that will eat it away from the inside out. I used the last of my Dar root from Darovan.”

  “I knew I could trust you, my friend,” Lady Shey said then smiled. “You knew it was lurking about then?”

  “I saw it sneaking around outside in the dark.”

  “I do wish I had elvish eyesight.” Shey said. “Thank you for taking care of it.”

  “Don’t be too appreciative, my lady, wherever there is a Shadow Lurker, there are bound to be Dramyds skulking about.”

  “A Drasmyd Duil so close to town I can believe since they can disguise themselves, but a Dramyd is a different matter. I doubt they would come so close to a village full of traveling soldiers no matter how dimwitted they may be.”

  Sanmir smirked. “True enough. Well, come on in and sit down. I will make you a cup of bittering tea.”

  “I would be glad to,” Lady Shey said, “but could you make it something to aid my sleep instead? Bittering tea will keep me awake all night.”

  Devyn’s head bobbed sleepily, and he almost fell out of his chair.

  “Let me prepare a place for the boy to lie down, and I will make you a soothing tea for sleep,” Sanmir offered.

  Devyn did not remember moving from the chair to the sleeping pallet until he realized he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

  “He is fighting off the poison and sleep also, I’m afraid,” Sanmir said from somewhere above Devyn’s head.

  “We may be in for a rough night,” Lady Shey observed.

  “I could prepare a powder,” Sanmir said thoughtfully, reaching for a nearby shelf.

  “I don’t believe we need to interrupt his body’s natural resistance. If his fever does not subside in an hour or so, we will try other measures. For now, let’s leave him be. He is no longer in danger.”

  “You always did have a way with poisons and antidotes, Sanmir.”

  DEVYN STIRRED AWAKE in a sweat. His nightclothes were drenched, and his head hurt. He threw the quilt covering him aside and looked at his bare chest. It had no signs of the yellow mud or of the burns. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and focused on the room around him, his room! Had he dreamed it all? His window was open and a stiff morning breeze blew in. The boy stumbled to the window and closed it. He examined the window pane for signs of the Drasmyd Duil’s struggle to get at him but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  The sun had not yet topped the Jagged Mountains, but the faint light of dawn filtered through the buildings. In the streets below not a soul stirred. Devyn stepped away from the window and absently rubbed his temples.

  Except for the headache and the fact that his chest itched, he didn’t seem to suffer any severe pain or discomfort. He decided to get dressed and go to Sanmir’s shop. Now that he was more coherent, he had questions he wanted answered. Using the water bowl and pitcher on his dressing table, Devyn washed his face and combed his hair. He pulled on his green traveling tunic and leather pantaloons and headed off to see the apothecary. He cleverly avoided the kitchen help, including Kelle, and slipped out the front door of the inn.

  The cobblestone streets of Brookhaven seemed unnaturally barren, even at this early hour. The air was clean and crisp; there was a distinct odor of ash and pine burning in the chimneys as he walked to the apothecary’s shop and rapped lightly on the door, not knowing exactly what to expect.

  Rennon opened the door. “Devyn, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Is Sanmir in?”

  “Of course he is,” Rennon answered. “But he is...um...busy right no
w.”

  Devyn stood at the door for a long moment, staring at Rennon who neither stepped aside nor offered to let him in.

  “Well, may I see him?” Devyn requested, becoming more agitated. “I am sure he will see me.”

  Rennon sighed heavily. “I suppose so.”

  Devyn cocked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you, Rennon? What are you trying to hide?”

  “Nothing, I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why are you acting so strange?”

  “I’m not. I’m just surprised to see you here so early in the morning.”

  Sanmir walked into the room from the back of his shop where he mixed his potions and salves. “Here you go, Rennon.” He held a small leather bag and a small tin. “This should be enough to keep you for a couple of months, and I have also packed you some sickle root salve in case—” Sanmir stopped cold when he saw Devyn, and then he regained his composure. “Oh, hello, Devyn.”

  “What is going on here?” Devyn asked suspiciously.

  “What do you mean?” Sanmir retorted.

  “What is that bag for, and that tin?” Devyn eyed Rennon.

  “It’s a special brew of bittering tea for Rennon to take on the trip to Symbor,” Sanmir said, “and the tin is sickle root salve for minor cuts and scrapes.”

  “We will only be gone a couple of weeks; why did you make him so much?”

  Rennon faltered. “Um...well...”

  “In case he is inclined to share some of course,” Sanmir said. His facial expression became anxious. “So what brings you here?” Sanmir asked, changing the subject. “Vesperin and Trendan have already come last evening to deliver Rennon’s summons.”

  Something strange is going on here, and it began with the arrival of Lady Shey, Devyn thought.

  “I need to talk to Sanmir and then we need to get going. Lady Shey will be waiting for us.”

  “Lady who?” Rennon asked.

  “Shey. She arrived from the mountains yesterday and visited this shop late last night. Didn’t Vesperin and Trendan tell you about her when they were here? She visited Sanmir late last night.”