[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (37 page)

“The girl you seek is about eighteen winters in age. She’s comely, with dark eyes and walnut-colored hair. The man who brings her to us will be richly rewarded. Anyone who harms her will suffer such a fate that he’ll come to crave death.

“Nothing is more important than finding this girl. General Var, organize a search and begin it at once. Keep me and Lord Bahl informed of its progress.”

With that, the Most Holy Gorm left the room with Bahl at his heels. General Var watched them depart without any doubt where the true power lay. The previous night he had quaked before Lord Bahl, but that man had become an empty husk.
 
It was the Devourer that I truly feared 
, Var thought.
 
Now its power resides in the priest. And in that cursed girl!
 
The general turned to lead his men in the hunt for her.

The noonday sun shone on the charred roof, turning the space beneath it into an oven. Yim’s throat was so dry that it hurt to breathe. Yet she welcomed the heat; it kept her chill at bay. When she had summoned spirits from the Dark Path, she had experienced similar coldness. But while the thing inside her was from the Sunless Way, it was no one’s departed soul. Thus its chill was familiar, but also different. Yim didn’t merely feel cold; she had become its essence. Her chill was a state of being, rather than a mere sensation.

Then the cold within Yim stirred, and she suddenly cramped. The pain was so strong that she wanted to cry out. Fearful of being heard, she froze instead, breathing in gasps as she waited for the agony to pass. But it didn’t pass. Instead, it coalesced into an icy presence as sharp and intense as a shard of glass deep within her. Yim had never felt anything like it. The sensation went beyond mere coldness; it felt as if a part of the Dark Path had settled in her womb.

At that moment, Yim realized that she had conceived. She knew her child would be a boy, just as she had known that the malign entity within Lord Bahl had left him to enter her. Yim’s pain gradually subsided. While her overall chill diminished after concentrating in her womb, it didn’t fade altogether.
 
It’s likely to be permanent 
, she thought,
 
at least until I bear the child 
. She feared it wouldn’t depart
 even then. While the cold was uncomfortable, it was bearable. Yim didn’t shiver; it was as if her body sensed that shivering would be futile.

Yim’s difficulties didn’t wake Hendric, who had slept fitfully beside her throughout the morning. Yim had avoided dozing, since every time she drifted off, something foul invaded her dreams. It was the thing from Karvakken Pass and Karm’s ruined temple, and it conjured up terrifying visions of slaughter. They seemed so real that Yim felt she was standing in their midst. However, the thing no longer sought to destroy her; she had become its vessel. What Yim feared most was that she’d fall under its influence.
 
Perhaps I’ll murder this poor man beside me 
. The thought had already flickered through her mind, a dark impulse that had arisen spontaneously.
 
Perhaps I’ll surrender to that priest 
. Yim felt as if she were walking in the dark, pursued by a lethal shadow. But the shadow was within her, so she could never escape it.

That dismal thought was interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats and tramping feet. Men were calling back and forth. Yim envisioned a line of them, stretched out evenly under the watchful eyes of mounted officers.
 
A search!
 
she thought.
 
A search for me!

“Check the house,” she heard a voice cry out. “It’s a likely hiding place.”

Yim listened in terror as the sound of boots on baked earth grew louder. Then she could hear them crunching charred shingles. “Phew!” said one voice. “Something’s ripe in here.”

“Aye, but that makes no difference. Be thorough.”

Yim turned to Hendric, who had awoken, his eyes wide with apprehension. She raised a finger to her lips, then lay absolutely still. From the sound of it, the soldiers were kicking away the shingles to uncover what lay beneath them. The noise grew louder as the searchers approached Yim’s cramped refuge. Then there was a crash and Yim felt debris
 falling on her leg. She glanced backward and saw sunlight shining on her ashy leg and foot. Then she lay still again and waited for the worst.

A hand grabbed her ankle. “Well, what have we here?” Yim’s ankle was lifted and then quickly released. “Gah! I found that corpse. This leg’s colder than a fish!”

“Come on, then,” said a second voice before shouting, “Sir! There’s nothing here!”

As Yim heard the men depart, she smelled the scent of Hendric’s urine.

Honus watched silently as the men walked between the hills. His second-in-command whispered in his ear, “Should I sound attack, sir?”

“Not yet,” replied Honus. “This puzzles me. They aren’t acting like Bahl’s troops.”

“Could it be some kind of ploy?”

“Subtlety is not Bahl’s suit. Besides, his peasant troops lack the discipline for subterfuge. Have a squad capture a few of them alive, and bring them to me.”

The officer departed on his mission, leaving Honus to ponder the new development. It went contrary to what he expected. Bahl goaded his peasant troops to reckless madness, then used them in mass assaults. The men in the pass seemed neither mad nor reckless. They had the cautious and frightened look of deserters, although no one ever deserted Bahl’s army. His grip was too strong, and the only escape lay in death. Puzzled, Honus was eager to question some captives.

A short while later, the officer brought forward three ragged men. They appeared to have come willingly, for the officer needed no soldiers to escort them. All three dropped to their knees when they halted before Honus. “Mercy on us, sire,” said one of the men, his eyes rimmed with tears. “We’ve done terrible things, but ‘twas na by our own will.”

“Aye,” said the second. “We’ve wakened from evil dreams
 to find blood on our hands. We repent, though we know not what we did for certain. Mercy, sir. For Karm’s sake, show mercy.”

The third man bowed his head. “Slay me if ye will. I deserve no better.”

“I believe that Karm is best served by forbearance,” said Honus. “I won’t take your lives. Moreover, I know something of your plight and the evil thing that gripped you. How did you break free of it?”

“‘twas last night,” said the second man. “I woke to find myself ruled by my own will. Until then, it seemed I dwelt in some dark place and watched another guide my hands. The things they did! Oh, Karm forgive me!”

“It was like that with me,” said the first man. “I lived in Lurwic, and know not how I got here. I recall naught but nightmares.”

“Has this happened to many?” asked Honus. “Or do you number among a lucky few?”

“All about us were affected,” said the first man, “though not all turned peaceable. Some went mad with rage and slew all they could until they were slain themselves. Those who live think only of escape, but many are confused.”

“And the Guard hunts us,” said the second man, “and kills all it catches.”

“Did any of you see a young woman on that night?” asked Honus. “She would have dark hair and eyes.”

“I saw no wench,” said the first man. The others said the same.

Then Honus turned to a soldier. “Take these men to the rear, and give the officer there these orders: He is to assist these men within our means, but to expect more soon. Perhaps a great many more. Keep them collected and question each about the whereabouts of my Bearer. If he hears of her, he’s to report to me immediately.”

After the solder left with the men, Honus’s second-in-command spoke to him. “General, ‘tis said that Bahland’s
 might waxes and wanes. Could this be the beginning of its withering?”

“Perhaps,” said Honus. “These tidings sound good, but I want to test them. Order the men to stay in position for the time being. Then assemble a hundred skilled fighters and bring them to me. I intend to reconnoiter beyond Tor’s Gate.”

It was afternoon when Honus led his troops past the opening of Tor’s Gate. He had donned his chain mail and a helm, for even if Bahl’s peasant troops had melted away, the Iron Guard remained. It had a formidable reputation that was well deserved. Honus advanced only a short way before it became obvious that the encampments about the stronghold were deserted. Judging by the number of empty tents and shelters, Bahl had assembled a formidable force. If it had surged through Tor’s Gate, Honus’s resistance would have been hard-pressed.

Many from that force lay slain, obviously cut down while fleeing. Honus could see their killers in the distance—the well-armored men of the Iron Guard. They were out in force, conducting a disciplined sweep. Honus halted his own men, waiting to see if the enemy would attempt an attack. If so, he planned to retreat and lure Bahl’s troops into the ambush. Yet although his men were within plain sight, the Guard ignored them to continue their search. It made Honus wonder if they were looking for more than deserting peasants.

The enemy within sight greatly outnumbered Honus’s party, and Honus had no doubt that there were additional troops within the stronghold. Therefore, he took care not to venture so far out that a swift assault could cut off retreat. He was judging the state of the stronghold’s walls when one of his scouts reported: “General, I’ve found General Cronin’s helm and cloak.”

“Did you leave them in place?”

“Aye, sir, like you said.”

“Then take me to them.”

The scout led Honus to the base of one of the wooded hills that flanked Tor’s Gate. There, behind a bush, lay Cronin’s neatly folded cloak. The helm lay atop it. Honus was surprised to find Yim’s sandals next to them. Honus motioned for the scout to stand clear while he inspected the surrounding ground. It had been disturbed by the scout’s footprints and by other prints as well, but Honus made a careful survey. Eventually, his patience was rewarded. A dozen paces from the discarded helm, he discovered three faint prints on the dusty ground. They were made by a woman’s bare feet, and they were headed toward the stronghold. Honus needed no other evidence to conclude that whatever had happened the previous night had been Yim’s doing.

THIRTY
-
EIGHT

YIM WAS
desperate for water by the time night fell. She had drunk a little wine the previous evening, but since then no liquid had passed her dry, cracked lips. When she crawled from her dusty hiding place, it was hard to see, for the moon had yet to rise. Yim had no idea if soldiers were about, but her thirst drove her westward in hope of finding water. Though Tor’s Gate lay the other way, Hendric insisted on joining her.

“The clansmen will have water,” said Yim. “You should go to them.”

“Ye must drink, too,” said Hendric. “So until ye do, I’ll stay with ye.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Mayhap ye be right, Mirien. But I think not. So I’ll not desert ye in yer need. And I’ll say why: Ye knew my deeds and forgave them.”

“Words,” replied Yim. “Don’t risk your life because of them.”

“They be more than words to me. They gave me back my life.”

Yim said nothing, and Hendric continued by her side. Although they found several wells, each of them was befouled, so they kept walking. Meanwhile, the horizon began to glow silver where the moon would rise. They were making their way through a broad field of waist-high grain when a nearly full moon climbed into the sky. By its light, Yim discovered they were not alone. The enemy had posted sentries, and three of them stood watch at the edge of the field.

“Soldiers!” whispered Yim as she dropped to the ground.

“Where?” whispered Hendric, who remained standing. “Oh, I see them. Keep down, Mirien.” Then Hendric kept walking.

Hugging the ground, Yim heard the rustling sound of Hendric striding through the unharvested grain. Then she crawled away in a different direction, leaving as scant a trail as possible. She had traveled about thirty paces when she heard the sound of a noisy pursuit. The sentries, having no reason to be quiet, dashed through the field with their armor clanking. Yim froze until she realized that she wasn’t their quarry. As the noise faded into the distance, Yim resumed crawling. Though she listened hard, she heard nothing that revealed Hendric’s fate.

After a while, Yim began to fear that she might be making her way toward more sentries. She had no way of telling without rising to peer about, and that would be risky. Paralyzed by indecision, Yim remained still and listened. For a long while, the only sound was a breeze softly rustling the
 grain. Then she heard men’s voices in the distance. Someone laughed. Afterward, the night turned quiet again.

Yim remained still until an impulse seized her to spring up and shout. She was nearly on her feet when she resisted the urge and dropped down. She lay in the dirt, still struggling with the inner darkness that tried to possess her. Eventually, she subdued it, though she was left trembling from the effort.
 
You and I have fought before 
, she thought to her adversary,
 
and I’ve defeated you 
.

As Yim recovered from her latest trial, she heard the fluttering of wings. Then a crow landed by her foot and gently pecked it. “Kwahku?” The bird responded by flying a few paces away and landing just within view. Yim crawled toward him, although it was the opposite way she had been traveling. Thus began a long journey on hands and knees through the grain. It was a painful way to travel, but Yim felt confident that she was moving toward safety. When she reached the edge of the field, a massive clump of brushes lay only ten paces away. Yet Kwahku waited a long while before flying toward them, making Yim conclude that there were soldiers close by. When the bird finally flew to the shrubbery, Yim dashed for their protection.