[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (18 page)

“Only if you’ll explain what’s going on.”

“Na here. Na now. Later.”

“All right.” Yim lifted her feet and placed them in the warm, herb-scented water. Initially she felt awkward as Lila washed the dirt from her feet and began to massage them. The girl’s fingers were strong, and she used them skillfully to ease Yim’s soreness. It seemed to Yim that Lila’s hands spoke to her, acknowledging her hardships and offering relief. Yim relaxed, and her thoughts turned tranquil. After Lila lifted Yim’s feet from the water and dried them using a cattail, she brought out a pair of sandals. “These are yours, Mother.”

Yim put them on. After all the strange things that had happened that afternoon, she wasn’t surprised that the sandals fit perfectly, down to the impression of her feet on the leather soles. They were oiled but not new, and when she looked down at them, she realized that one of the straps had been repaired. Yim took that sandal off, examined the strap, and recognized Foel’s handiwork. “I kicked this off in the Yorvern River!”

Lila smiled, then whispered in Yim’s ear. “A token from the Old Ones that you may look to them in times of need.”

Yim stared at her sandal, wondering what form of magic
 had restored her footwear and what other secrets Lila knew. The girl ignored Yim’s amazement and joined her father in cooking the hares. Her mother stirred the other pots. No one spoke, but the silence had a peaceful air that gradually put Yim at ease again. The light coming in from the windows slowly faded, and when dinner was served, it was eaten by firelight. The food was delicious, and Lila and Nyra entertained their guests with stories of the forest and its creatures. Some of it sounded like gossip—a feud between the crows and owls; how a larcenous raccoon tricked a badger; and the laments of voles. They also spoke of the lineage of trees and the spring’s surprises. But the topic of faeries never came up until Yim asked, “Does the lake really reflect starlight in the daytime?”

“Aye,” said both mother and daughter.

“But the stars are in their old places and hard to recognize,” added Lila.

“I’d forgotten that,” said Nyra, mostly to herself. “‘tis been a long time.”

“And you meet faeries there?” asked Yim.

Lila silently raised a finger to her lips.

EIGHTEEN

IT WASN’T
until the meal was over that Yim finally had a chance to speak privately with Lila. As the table was being cleared, the girl took the remains of the butchered hares outside. Shortly afterward, Yim followed her. When she emerged from the hillock, she saw Lila standing in the darkness with the ghostlike forms of owls feeding near her feet.
 The birds remained put as Yim approached. The girl knelt briefly, then rose.

“What’s happening here?” asked Yim.

“You’re visiting friends.”

“Friends I’ve never met before and who seem to know all about me.”

“Na all,” replied Lila.

“Then what?”

“That you’re the Chosen.”

Yim started at the word. “Who told you that? Honus?”

“Na him. ‘tis an old secret.”

“I’ve heard that once before.” Yim gazed at Lila. The child’s pale skin made her seem ethereal in the dark—almost like a vision—and it didn’t feel foolish turning to her for guidance. “What will happen to me?”

“You can na understand your life until the very end.”

“Why?” asked Yim. “Earlier, you said you’d explain things.”

“I can na explain what is na certain.”

“That’s babble,” said Yim, not bothering to hide her frustration. “You know things, but say nothing.”

“Do what’s necessary.”

Those words again!
thought Yim. “I don’t know what’s necessary.”

“You do,” said Lila, her voice quiet yet assured. “You’ve always known.”

Lila’s reply was so similar to Karm’s that it momentarily silenced Yim. Then, despairing of ever getting a direct answer, Yim asked something simple. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three winters,” replied Lila. “But I sleep through them and age slowly.”

“You’re older then me!”

“And my friends are far older still. Please do na be cross with them or me. We’ve told you all we know. The end approaches, but we do na know its nature.”

Yim saw she was being told the truth. “I’m not angry,
 Lila.” She stroked the girl’s cheek. “It’s just that you seemed so knowing. I’d hoped… I don’t know what I hoped. That you had some answers, I guess.”

“You possess the answers, na I. But I can give you food, and speak to your lover about what route to take.”

“He’s not my lover.”

“He loves you. And you him.”

“Yes, but…” Yim sighed. “You probably already know.”

“I do. ‘tis sad.”

“It is.”

Yim and Lila spoke a while longer, but about nothing of consequence. The girl wouldn’t discuss the faeries, and she had given Yim what guidance she could. The owls finished their meal and flew off as Lila and Yim went inside. There, Nyra showed Yim and Honus their sleeping chamber. It lay beyond one of the low openings in the wall and resembled a snug, wooden-walled burrow. Its rounded walls and ceiling formed a space that was too low to stand in and just wide enough for two persons. A thick, soft layer of fragrant dried plants covered its wooden floor. Yim imagined Lila hibernating through the winter in that very place or a similar one. The idea seemed pleasant. She removed her newly recovered sandals, settled into Honus’s arms, and fell asleep.

The next morning, Yim awoke to view hordes of mice scampering about the central room. She glanced at the stone table and saw that it was covered with fresh berries. The mice departed when Yim’s hosts emerged from their sleeping chambers to invite her and Honus to a breakfast of berries, nuts, and herb-flavored water. Throughout the meal, Lila told more tales of the woods. Although he must have heard them before, Fenric seemed as enthralled as Yim by his daughter’s stories. “Do you sleep through the winters also?” Yim asked him.

Fenric’s eyes grew melancholy. “Nay. Lila and her mother do, so ‘tis a lonely time for me. Only the kiss bestows long sleep, and only girls are kissed.”

“This place looks old,” said Honus to Nyra. “Have your folk lived here long?”

“Since beyond remembering,” replied the woman. “The tree that grows above this house is but the latest of a long line.” She gave the Sarf a stern look. “Do na speak ill of the Old Ones. They’re wary and protect what they love, but they’re na evil.”

“Then why do folk fear their dells?” asked Honus.

“Because they should,” said Lila. “People are heedless, and the Old Ones never forget.” She turned to Yim. “But they love you, Mother. Remember that.”

After Yim and Honus had eaten, Nyra gave them provisions for their journey, and then Lila led them from the forest. When she reached its border, a crow flew down and perched upon her shoulder. Then the girl spoke to Honus. “Karmamatus, this is Kwahku. He’ll guide Mother to her friend’s dwelling. Follow him and no unfriendly eyes will spy you. Anywhere he alights will be safe.”

Honus seemed almost as surprised that Lila called him “Karmamatus” as he was to have a crow for a guide, but he said nothing. The crow flew off as the girl knelt before Yim and kissed her hand. “Many hopes go with you, Mother.”

Before Yim could thank her, Lila rose and stepped into the undergrowth. Then she seemed to vanish. Kwahku, who had been circling above, gave a “caw” and began to fly northwestward. Honus and Yim followed him.

Throughout the day, Yim and Honus were guided by the crow. The bird would fly a distance—a short one in wooded places and a longer one over more open ground—before perching within view. Honus, with Yim close behind him, would make his way to the bird. As soon as they reached him, he would fly off again. Sometimes he circled high above,
 seeming to survey the territory ahead before choosing which way to go.

By this means, Yim and Honus traveled through valleys and over slopes without encountering a single soul. As dusk drew nigh, the bird led them to a perfect place to camp. The spot had running water nearby and was so hidden that having a fire didn’t seem imprudent. Honus gathered wood and lit one. Afterward, Yim roasted tubers in its embers. When dinner was cooked, Kwahku landed next to Yim and she fed him as she ate.

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.”