[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (42 page)

Time dragged on until Yim finally decided that it was safe to rise. Taren smiled when she saw that Yim was awake. “Good morn, Mirien.”

“What work does your husband do?” asked Yim.

Taren seemed puzzled by the sharpness in Yim’s tone. “What?”

“You said he doesn’t plant. So what does he do?”

“He guides soldiers. They pay him in grain.”

Yim revealed the knife she had hidden and brandished it. “I’m sorry, Taren. I truly am. But I need food.”

Taren stared at the blade, confused and terrified. “Mirien, what…”

Yim waved the knife menacingly, though she felt terrible doing so. “I mean it, Taren! Give me grain and roots, and do it now!”

“Why?”

“Your husband will betray me, so I must flee south. I’ll need food for that. And a flint and iron. I don’t want to hurt you or your children, but I’m desperate.”

Taren started to tremble. “I’ll have to dig the roots from the mound.”

“Then just the grain. All you have.”

“Please,” said Taren. “My children.”

“Then keep some, but hurry!”

As the panicked woman rushed to comply, Yim felt relieved that Taren’s children still slept and wouldn’t witness how their mother’s kindness was being repaid. While Yim watched Taren, she struggled with her own rising panic. She had no idea of where to go or how she could evade capture. Her only strategy was to appear to head south and then turn north as soon as she was out of Taren’s sight.

Taren took a sack of grain and poured some into an empty kettle. Then she held up the sack. “Is this enough?”

“Fine, fine,” said Yim. “Now the flint and iron.”

Taren got those items, put them in the sack, and advanced toward Yim. “Please, ‘tis my only knife.”

“I’m sorry, but I need it more.”

Taren held out the sack, and as Yim reached for it, Taren lunged for the knife. Yim slashed wildly and sliced Taren’s bare arm. The woman shrieked from pain, waking her daughters. The girls began to cry in terror at the sight of their mother gripping her gashed arm. Blood was already flowing between her fingers.

Yim was sickened by what she had done. But what disturbed her even more was that she had felt a sudden thrill when the blade struck flesh. Feeling pleasure at another’s pain ran counter to her entire being, and yet she had. Yim felt far guiltier than when she had drunk the hare’s blood and far more tainted.

“Go!” shouted Taren. “Go! Whatever ye did must be vile and wicked!”

Then Yim fled the hut, her deed, and the children who wailed for their wounded mother.

The true path is neither wide nor straight, and on either side lies the abyss.

—
 
The Scroll of Karm

FORTY
-
THREE

YIM RAN
as fast as her condition allowed, which wasn’t very fast. After she entered the woods and was screened from view, she turned eastward. A rise lay due north. Its heights seemed a logical place to flee, but Yim didn’t feel up to climbing. She was already tired and hungry, and the day had just begun. Moreover, she was so heartsick and discouraged that every effort seemed daunting. Thus she plodded east, attempting to hide her trail, but too listless to do a good job.

By midmorning, Yim rounded the eastern end of the rise, and was able to head north. She traveled only a short distance before the woods ended. Yim stood at their edge and gazed at the open country beyond. It had been farmland until the recent invasion, a place principally marked by low stone boundary walls. None of the huts or other buildings stood intact, and most had been reduced to little more than blackened rubble. The fields and meadows were reverting to weeds, but the process had begun only recently, so they offered little cover. There were a few places for concealment—orchards, woodlots, and ruins—but Yim would have to cross open ground to reach them.

Yim saw that the route ahead would involve alternating safety with exposure.
 
It’ll be a journey best made by night 
, she surmised. The sack of grain meant she could forgo searching for food during the day, at least for a while. Escape seemed feasible, and that gave Yim a measure of confidence.
 
All I need now is a place to hide and rest until
 tonight 
. Yim supposed that she could hide in the woods, but they were open and the undergrowth was still thin and new. It looked too scant to offer real concealment. Yim scanned the landscape ahead and spied a blackened hut with a collapsed roof. She had escaped detection before in just such a place. It wasn’t close, but she could hurry. Yim decided that she would, and rushed into the weedy field before her.

As Yim ran, she felt the exhilaration that comes from action. She was speeding toward safety, albeit more clumsily and slowly than she would have liked. Still, as she neared her goal, it felt like the completion of a significant first step. The burnt hut was near when the soft slap of her feet upon the ground was accompanied by another sound.
 
Hoofbeats!
 
Yim turned, and her exhilaration became despair. Armed men, accompanied by Kamish, were emerging from the woods. Among their number was an armored horseman who was galloping toward her. He was already far ahead of the advancing foot soldiers.

Yim stopped running. The hut was no longer a meaningful goal. She dropped the sack of grain. It would not sustain her. Only the knife was of use. She had no hope of overcoming an armored and experienced opponent, but she could use the blade on herself. Turning to face the oncoming rider, she parted her cloak. Her rags barely covered her, and a rounded expanse of flesh was visible beneath the holes. Grabbing the hilt of Taren’s kitchen knife with both hands, she pointed its blade toward Lord Bahl’s son and herself.

It seemed such a quick way to end it. A single stab would seal her fate and end Bahl’s line. Yim pressed the blade’s point against her skin with trembling hands. The spot began to bleed.
 
Just one thrust 
, she told herself.
 
One easy motion 
. But it wasn’t as easy as she thought. Yim struggled to summon her will to do it.

Unnoticed, the horseman dismounted. “My lady!” he called in an urgent voice. “I beg you, please forbear!”

Startled, Yim glanced at the man. Both of his hands were
 raised and empty, as if he were surrendering. “Please, my gracious lady, don’t harm yourself! Your sufferings are ended. We’re here only to protect and aid you.”

“I’m no silly thing to be so easily snared!” said Yim, raising the blade to plunge it in.

“You’re the honored mother of my future lord,” replied the man, his face earnest. “I’d sooner die than harm you.”

“You won’t harm me,” said Yim, raising the knife even higher. “I can do that myself.” She drove the blade downward.

Yim expected searing pain. What she experienced was a flash of steel, a ringing sound, and a jolt as the knife flew from her hand. She saw it spinning off into the field as the soldier sheathed his sword almost as quickly as he had drawn it. Yim was stunned by the swiftness of it all.
 
He’s as fast as Honus!
 
Then the soldier seized her.

Yim struggled as the man wrapped his armored arms about her, but she did so halfheartedly. The soldier, for his part, was as gentle as he could be while still restraining her. “My lady, calm yourself. We mean no harm. Your safety and comfort are our sole concern.”

By then, the soldier’s comrades arrived running. Soon, more hands restrained Yim, albeit gently. Her cloak was taken so her wrists could be bound behind her back. The rope was soft and smooth, but the knots held fast. Yim’s filthy, tattered cloak was replaced by one like the soldiers wore. A man raised a silver flask. “Would you like some honeyed wine, my lady?” When Yim nodded, the man delicately held the flask to her lips and wiped her chin when she was done.

“She’s a lady?” Kamish asked one of the soldiers, his voice reflecting his incredulity.

“Aye, for certain.”

Kamish smirked. “Well, she does na look it. When do I get my gold?”

“When the wagon comes for her.”

“When’s that?”

“Soon enough. You won’t wait long.”

A tall soldier whose armor was more finely adorned than the other men’s approached Yim. “I’m Captain Thak, my lady. You’ll be my charge awhile. I regret that I must have you walk a little longer until we reach a suitable campsite. There, we’ll erect a pavilion where you can repose in comfort until transport arrives.”

“Transport to where?”

“Why, to the Iron Palace, the seat of your son’s domain.”

“Perhaps I’ll have a daughter,” replied Yim.

The captain chuckled, “Nay, nay, my lady. It’s always been a son for six generations.”

“And don’t call me ‘my lady’!” snapped Yim. “Call me ‘Karmamatus.’”

The captain’s face reddened. “That doesn’t suit,” he said in a curt tone. Then he turned solicitous again. “Would my lady like some bread and cheese before we depart? It’s soldier’s fare, but mayhap you’ve not dined well of late.”

“Some food would be good.”

“Then I’ll have a man feed you.”

A soldier arrived with coarse stale bread and a chunk of cheese so hard that he required his dagger to break off pieces. He wouldn’t untie Yim’s hands, despite her promises to behave, but fed her like a pet bird. Yim ate bits of bread and cheese, washing it down with sips of honeyed wine, until she felt full. When she was done, the soldiers marched her northwest until they reached the bank of a tiny river. The soldiers halted there, and as they began to set up camp, the horseman galloped off. Yim had little doubt that he had left to bear the good news to Lord Bahl and the Most Holy Gorm.

Yim’s “pavilion” proved to be a tent too low to stand in. Inside, a few blankets had been spread upon the ground. Yim had to enter it by awkwardly walking on her knees. Captain Thak followed after her. “Lie on your back, my lady.”

When Yim complied, she saw that the captain held a stout wooden rod that was about as long as an extended arm. At either end were iron hoops with a hinge on one side and a lock on the other. He grabbed one of Yim’s ankles and locked it inside a hoop. Yim spoke as he secured the other ankle. “So this is how you treat ‘your lady.’ Am I to wet myself? I’m with child and make water often.”

“A man shall tend to that business,” replied Thak. “He’ll feed, dress, and bathe you also. But don’t worry, I’ll blind him first.”

“How barbaric!” said Yim. “Since it pleased Lord Bahl to show me naked, my modesty needn’t cost a man his sight.”

Thak grinned. “I was at that dinner. But then you were only a whore, not the vessel for the heir. Lord Bahl’s will is plain in this. The man must lose his eyes.”

“I’d rather wet myself.”

Thak allowed some of his contempt to show. “So well you might, but you’ll be treated as a lady regardless.”

A short while latter, a soldier groped his way into Yim’s tent. He wore no armor, nor bore any weapon. As Yim feared, his head was circled with a bandage that was bloody about the eyes. After he touched Yim’s ankle, he bowed in her general direction. “Greetings, my lady. My name is Finar. ‘twill be my honor to serve ye.” He groped outside the tent until he touched a pot of steaming water. Finar pulled it inside and closed the flap. “Captain Thak said ye need a bath.”

While Yim waited to be taken to the Iron Palace, she led a life of anxious idleness. Finar was always by her side, and she gradually adjusted to his obtrusive presence. The man seldom spoke, and he was as morose as might be expected of someone blinded so he could catch a woman’s urine. The soldiers found Yim better clothes somewhere, and she wore a clean shift that was well made and almost new. She dined on the finest food that the men could obtain. It was mostly plain fare, but abundant and vastly superior to raw hare
 and musk cabbage. She ate from Finar’s hand, for her wrists were always tied behind her back.

Yim felt that her existence likened to that of a lamb being fattened for a feast. All her pampering was for a purpose. Despite her courteous treatment, Yim had no illusions that she was valued; she was only the vessel for something that was. That was why she was bound night and day, so she could do nothing to jeopardize Bahl’s precious heir.
 
And after I deliver him, then what?
 
Yim gazed at her growing belly. She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

It was the rider’s haste that first alerted Honus. Good soldiers conserved their mounts, driving them hard only in times of need, and the Iron Guardsmen were good soldiers. Accordingly, Honus’s curiosity was piqued, but he didn’t jump to conclusions. Instead, he continued to observe the stronghold. The rider could be warning of an enemy’s advance, the imminent arrival of fresh troops, or Yim’s capture. Lord Bahl’s response would be telling.

The rider had arrived late in the afternoon, and Honus noted nothing unusual during the rest of the day. It wasn’t until the following morning that a wagon was driven out of the stronghold. It looked like a supply wagon that had been modified by the addition of a tentlike structure over its bed. By observing the ease with which the two horses pulled the vehicle, Honus surmised that it wasn’t heavily laden. Despite its seeming lack of cargo, the wagon was well guarded. Two dozen foot soldiers marched behind it. A mounted guide led the way, accompanied by two mounted officers. Judging from the gilt armor of one of the officers, Honus thought that he was probably a general. However, it was the presence of a priest in the party that seemed most significant.