[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers (12 page)

Honus also seemed inclined to ease their relations, for he responded benignly. “It’s not as close as it seems. We must walk quickly to reach it by afternoon.”

“Last night, you talked as though it was an unwholesome place.”

“It is. We’ll want it far behind us when night falls. Karvakken has a grim history and many believe evil lingers in those ruins.”

“Do you, Master?”

“I don’t know if all the tales are true, but I certainly wouldn’t tarry there.”

Honus’s reply reinforced Yim’s disquiet. “Need we go that way?”

“It should be safe enough in daytime. Besides, it’s the shortest route to Bremven.”

Yim gazed apprehensively at the pass. “How could a place become so fell?”

“It’s a long tale, but I’ll tell it if you’d like.”

“Please.”

“Long ago, Luvein was rich and fair,” said Honus, “but its lords were locked in conflict. Greed and power hardened their hearts, and they cared not that their struggles caused misery. Battles raged back and forth without any clear victor. Only scribes remember the combatants now. They’re all forgotten—except the one named Bahl.”

“I know that name. It’s infamous,” said Yim. Then she looked puzzled. “But Lord Bahl’s alive today.”

“Many men have borne that name. It’s the legacy of his line. That, and a fearful reputation. But the first Bahl was no lord in the beginning. Where he came from is a mystery. Some say he was a wanderer from the north, others claim he was the bastard of a local lord. Wherever his origin, he possessed the dark power that makes his name so feared.”

“I’ve heard of it,” said Yim. “They say Lord Bahl sways men easily.”

“‘Sway’ is too gentle a word,” said Honus. “Men become fanatics who fight heedless of their persons. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“And Luvein’s where it all began?”

“Yes,” said Honus. “Bahl was a common soldier in some lord’s household troop. Even then, he had uncanny power over others. It caused him to rise quickly. Soon, he commanded an army. His patron became the most powerful lord in Luvein, but he had kenneled a rabid dog. Bahl destroyed what he conquered. When his master objected, Bahl slew him to seize his lands and title.

“The other nobles allied to fight Lord Bahl. The more destruction Bahl wrought, the stronger grew his hold over men. Reason forsook his soldiers, and they fell upon Luvein like ravening beasts, leaving only corpses and ruins in their wake. And the carnage reached its climax at Karvakken, where the nobility of Luvein made its last stand.

“Karvakken was called invincible, but Bahl overcame it. No one could say how, for no defender lived to tell. Peace came in the guise of death, for all Luvein was desolated.”

“What was the purpose of such slaughter?” asked Yim.

“That’s the mystery,” said Honus. “Bahl’s savagery earned him naught but a wasteland. Tales speak no more of him, but he must have sired a son, for a new Lord Bahl appeared. And he possessed his father’s power.”

“What became of him?”

“He departed Luvein. In the west, he conquered a tiny realm. There, he erected an iron fortress.”

“The Iron Palace?”

“The same.”

“Even in the North, that name strikes fear,” said Yim. “But Bahl’s realm isn’t tiny.”

“Not now,” said Honus. “Under each successive lord, it’s grown larger. And the current Lord Bahl threatens to outdo the original.” Honus gazed at the surrounding desolation. “Perhaps someday every land will look like this.”

“And you’ve fought against him?”

“Only a skirmish in the scheme of things.” A tormented look came to Honus’s face that even his tattoos couldn’t hide.

“Yet I see the memory pains you.”

“It was hard to see my Bearer fall. And the way he fell…” Honus lapsed into silence.

“I grieve for your loss.”

Honus nodded, but didn’t speak again.

Yim had grown accustomed to Honus’s sudden silences.
He hoards his words, and then spends them all at once.
It seemed the mark of a conflicted man. For the most part, Honus’s silence suited Yim. She had no desire to become more involved with her master; her slavery involved her far too much already. The Wise Woman had warned Yim that she would face trials, and she feared Honus was one of them.

Karvakken Pass promised to be another. Yim perceived its malevolent aura as coldness that was of otherworldly origin.
If I can feel it from this distance, how strong will it be at the pass?
Already, her hands and feet were icy. She looked at Honus to see if he was affected also, but could detect no signs. Yim clutched her cloak about her and was glad for Honus’s brisk pace.

As Yim and Honus neared the pass, the woods thinned out and the landscape grew more barren. The desolation of the lowlands paled against the starkness of the mountain road. The few remaining trees were stunted, bare, and twisted into grotesque forms. Nothing delicate survived. It was a hurtful landscape of rocks and thorns that offered no prospect of rest. Yet, these were only outward signs of the land’s afflictions.

Yim began to perceive distant voices. At first, they were faint and easy to ignore. As the pass loomed ever closer, they became louder and more insistent. Yim began to distinguish individual sounds within the cacophony. Sometimes it was a wail of pain or a cry of rage.

“Master, what are those voices?”

Honus looked at her strangely. “What voices? I hear only wind.”

Yim winced and said, “Don’t say you didn’t hear
that
!”

“What are you talking about? Is this some jest?”

Yim didn’t reply, but her frightened look caused Honus to look about. They were nearly at the ruined fortress, a dark, ugly structure constructed from black basalt quarried from the surrounding cliffs. It nearly filled the inside of the pass, pressing against a sheer wall of rock that towered above it. No living thing was visible around the site, only bare stone. The crude and massive masonry fitted its stark location so perfectly that the ruins more resembled a malignant growth than the work of human hands. High crenellated stone walls, still mostly intact, encircled an enormous ruined keep. As Honus surveyed the grim structure, the wind died down and the scene was wrapped in deathlike stillness.

Yim saw far more than a ruined fortress. The sounds that terrified her were voiced by ghostly visions. An army was besieging the walls. While she watched, the wraiths became more solid. The noise of combat reverberated within her head. Screams and shouts combined into a roar, yet Yim could also distinguish sounds unique to war’s butchery—the thud of blows, the hacking of flesh, the crunching of bone. Yim felt something sticky beneath her feet and saw blood. The road was covered with it.

All the while, Honus strode forward as if the road were not flowing red. Yim felt rising panic and the urge to run away. Still, part of her realized the horrors were illusions. Thus, she staggered behind Honus, knowing he was her sole guide through the terrifying vision. They reached the fortress. Yim saw a writhing mound of living and dead soldiers piled beneath its walls. They seemed as real as the black stones above them. As Yim approached, the pile grew and became a stairway of flesh. An immense human wave slowly mounted it. It crested the ramparts and overflowed them. The air was filled with the sounds of slaughter. Yim became nearly oblivious of Honus. She thought he might be shaking her, but she couldn’t tell. The ghosts commanded her attention.

The blood seemed real. The blood
was
real. It flowed thick and hot over her bare feet. It steamed in the cold air, turning it heavy with its sharp, metallic smell. Soon it was above her ankles. It splashed her legs with every step. All around her were madness, agony, and gore. The sensation was so powerful that Yim shared the combatants’ pain. She felt wounded in a thousand places and in a thousand ways. Then, in the midst of the chaos, she sensed something new. It was the malevolent center of the battle, a thing that was both its cause and effect. Yim knew it for a denizen of the Dark Path, where time and place were relative. For it, this ancient battle was perpetual. In some unknown way, it was aware of her and was attempting to draw her into eternal terror.

Yim struggled to remember that the horrors she saw and felt were not real, but only echoes from the distant past. That realization was her only defense against her unseen adversary. Still, it was hard to grasp when pain shot through every nerve and blood seemed to rise around her. It reached her waist and clawed at her legs like a swollen river. Yim feared that, at any moment, she would be swept away. The source of this torrent was right before her—the vast pile of groaning men that blocked her path. Crimson poured from countless wounds in their broken bodies. Convulsing with terror, Yim slipped and sank beneath the flowing gore. As blood filled her screaming mouth, the swirling crimson darkened to black.

FIFTEEN

H
ONUS WAS
sitting on the ground, watching over Yim, when her eyes flew open. They seemed blinded by terror. Honus grasped her hand. “So you’ve returned,” he said.

Yim clutched him and pressed her face into his chest. “I can’t do it!” she cried. “It’s impossible! Karm asks too much!”

“What’s this talk?” asked Honus in a gentle voice.

Instead of replying, Yim began sobbing.

Honus wrapped his arms around Yim, and in her traumatized state, she accepted his embrace. Honus didn’t speak again until she ceased crying and her trembling subsided. “The goddess asks only that we do what we can,” he said, his voice still gentle.

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand this,” said Honus. “Karm wants you to bear my pack.”

“But she…” Yim cut herself short and became silent.

“It’s within your power,” said Honus.

Yim let out a deep sigh. “Yes. I can carry your pack.” Honus felt her tense, and when she spoke again, her voice was vehement. “I can do that, but
only
that.”

Honus started to rise, but Yim clung to him. “Hold me a while longer. I need to touch a living person.”

“What did you see at the pass?”

“A battle, the one you described.”

“It was a vision,” said Honus, feeling awed. “I thought as much.”

“It was horrible, just horrible.” Yim looked at her legs and feet, as if fearful of what she’d see. “I thought I drowned in blood.”

“War is indeed terrible,” said Honus. “I’m sorry you witnessed it, even as an apparition.”

“And you saw and heard nothing?”

“No, but after you collapsed, I sensed a presence,” said Honus. “I dared not trance to seek it out.”

“I remember nothing after I fell. I don’t even recall walking here.”

“You didn’t. I carried you.”

“How far?”

“Far enough.”

Yim peered about and seemed aware of her surroundings for the first time. They were on the roadside, beneath a stunted tree. The mountains and Karvakken Pass were not close, but they still loomed against the darkening sky.

“If you’re capable of walking,” said Honus, “we should put more distance between us and the pass before nightfall.”

The terror-stricken look in Yim’s eyes returned. She released Honus and rose shakily to her feet. “Let’s hurry, Master.”

When Honus moved to shoulder the pack, Yim stopped him. “That’s mine to carry.”

Though Honus doubted Yim had the strength to bear the pack, he gave it to her. He was still trying to make sense of her initial outburst.
Perhaps she was confused by her ordeal
. He suspected, however, that explanation fell short of the mark. Yim’s despair troubled him, especially since it followed a vision. Honus had been taught that visions were significant portents. That Yim was so traumatized by hers seemed a cause for concern.

They headed down the road, and walking seemed to do Yim good. Her gait became steady, but she was wrapped in a brooding silence that Honus was loath to disturb. They walked until the sun approached the horizon. “We’ll find no farmhouse this close to the pass,” said Honus. “We should look for a campsite soon.” Seeing Yim’s haunted expression, he added, “You’ll be all right. The vision has passed.”

“It seemed so real. I even felt and smelled the blood. Is it really like that?”

“What?”

“A battle.”

“I don’t know what you saw,” replied Honus.

“There was screaming and shouting and cruelty. I felt surrounded by pain. And the blood! It reached my waist!”

“I’ve never been waist-high in blood. I don’t know if such a thing is possible.”

“So a battle’s not like that?”

“The rest rings true enough.”

Yim turned quiet, but her face reflected inner struggle. She walked that way awhile before uttering, “There was…” Yim stopped speaking, and the struggle resumed. A moment later she spoke again. “There was something else in my vision. The most frightening part—a being that thrived on the slaughter. It cared not who won or lost, as long as men perished.”

“What kind of being?”

“I don’t know. Not a man or his spirit. Something powerful and malicious.”

“It sounds horrific,” said Honus, “but Theodus told me that visions are often metaphors. That being may have been one.”

“It felt real enough.”

“Whatever it was, it deserves contemplation,” said Honus. “Your vision was divinely inspired. As terrible as it seemed, it was a gift.”

“A gift! Visions are afflictions!”

“You mustn’t say that.”

“Why? Have you had visions?”

“No,” admitted Honus.

“Then don’t speak of things you don’t know! Visions have ruined my life!”

Honus stared at Yim, dumbfounded.

“Look at me!” she cried. “I’m a slave! I’m dressed in a rag and a dead man’s cloak. This is what my visions did to me! Gifts, indeed! Pray that you never receive such gifts.”

Yim slumped down on the roadside. Before she covered her face with her hands, it reflected a mixture of despair and rage. Honus knelt down beside her. “You’ve had more than one vision?” Yim didn’t answer. “Perhaps I can help you understand them.”

“Would you take off your shirt so I could understand your runes?”

“That’s different.”

“My visions are no less private. I shouldn’t have mentioned them. I regret that I did. They’re my misfortune, but they’re mine alone.”