[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (47 page)

“Why not just kill it?”

“You can’t solve everything by killing, though as a Sarf, you might believe so.” Yim could see her words hurt Honus, and though it tore at her, it didn’t sway her. “The child’s not our foe. It’s the evil within him, and that can’t be overcome by violence. Violence nurtures it.”

“Then how can you defeat it?”

“Through love.”

“Then why do you reject mine?”

Yim saw that Honus was searching for some sign that she would relent. Knowing that she dared not give him one, Yim gazed back at him dry-eyed and firm. “I don’t reject your love, but I must forsake it. All my life I’ve followed Karm’s path. It’s never been easy. But now that I see its end, I’ll make this sacrifice to reach it.”

“I can help you by protecting you and your son.”

“I’m sorry, Honus, but this child will be drawn to death. He can’t grow up around you. I must go to some distant land, somewhere apart from wars and warriors.”

“Even if you find such a place and raise your son there, if the Devourer is within him, how can you hope to turn him from evil?”

“The Devourer is also within me now. If I can resist its evil, perhaps my son can also.”

“Yim, don’t you love me?”

The devastation in Honus’s voice nearly shattered Yim’s resolve. But she persevered. “I’ll love you forever. That love is Karm’s gift. But my child will need my love more than you. So it’s Karm’s will that we part. Honus, that night in the temple, you swore obedience to me. I hold you to that oath. I’m leaving, and you mustn’t follow.”

Honus, who had been so formidable, looked utterly defeated. “So Karm granted us love, always knowing she’d snatch it away?”

“Yes.”

Honus was silent for a long while, a man seemingly drained of all feeling. Then emotion returned to him, and he stood up, his face reddening. “Such cruelty! To play with lives like that! It makes Karm no better than the Devourer.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why not? Perhaps you can forgive her, but I can’t. Karm took me from my parents. She decreed that I should train to kill. For what? So she might break your heart and
 mine? So we might end our days in bitterness?” Honus drew his sword and slashed at the heavens. “I gave my life to Karm! But now I repent and hereby curse the day I stepped into her temple!”

Honus drove the blade into the ground with such force that it was half buried. Then with a violent kick he snapped it and flung the hilt away. “I renounce Karm forever!”

“Honus!”

“I’ll obey your will, but not hers. I’ll take but two water skins. The rest is yours. Go north if you will. I’ll not follow. May Karm give you solace. I’ll seek mine elsewhere. And when folk gaze upon my face, I’ll say it shows my hate for Karm.”

Yim stood stunned and heartbroken as Honus grabbed two water skins and dashed up the hill. In his haste, he didn’t even bother to take his cloak. Yim climbed the hill and saw him running through the vast expanse of grass. She remained there, wiping her tears so she might see him for the last time. Honus’s form grew ever smaller until it disappeared from view and Yim was alone.

FORTY
-
EIGHT

YIM WEPT.
There was no one to see or care, so she gave sorrow free rein. It ruled her for a while. Then the resolve that allowed her to send Honus away resurfaced. She had given up the one she cherished most, and she was determined that it would not be in vain. Yim shouted to the empty plain. “The world won’t fall into the abyss! My child will know love, not hate and death!”

Yim almost smiled at her bravado as she prepared for her journey north. She inventoried her supplies and found all the basics—a flint and iron, a knife, a pot, a wooden bowl, a healing kit, and a spoon. There was ample grain, some roots, a loaf of stale bread, and a bit of cheese. She had her shift, which she washed in the pool and laid upon the grass to dry. She also had Neeg for transportation and companionship. Lastly, she had Honus’s threadbare cloak. She picked it up and pressed it to her face, cherishing something that smelled of him.

Yim packed the saddlebags, donned her damp shift, saddled Neeg, and after much difficulty, mounted the horse. Her bruised side was painful to the point that it hampered her as much as her extended belly. The stallion stood so patiently through her clumsy efforts that Yim had the impression he understood her plight. Yim sensed a rapport between them. It made her wonder if Rupeenla’s kiss had given her more than the ability to overwinter with a bear.

By noon, Yim was riding north. Neeg bore her gently, as if he knew that every jolt pained his rider. Yim’s kidney hurt so much that she was nauseous. Riding would have been pleasant if not for that. Instead, it was an ordeal made worse by the need to dismount often and spray the grass with bloody urine. Each time, climbing back into the saddle was a struggle in which the skill gained by repetition was offset by Yim’s increasing fatigue and pain. By late afternoon, she could no longer manage the feat and slumped to the ground. Neeg nuzzled her, seeming to offer comfort.

After resting awhile, Yim rose and removed Neeg’s bit so he might graze. As she did, she gazed into the animal’s large brown eyes. “You don’t need a bridle and reins, do you?”

The stallion gave a snort.

“I thought not.” Yim threw the bridle away. “I’m hurt, Neeg, and I don’t know how bad. Bad enough that you might have to find the way north. Can you do that?” Neeg
 just lowered his head and began to graze. “Great,” said Yim. “My first day alone, and I’m already asking my horse for help. Perhaps he could make porridge also.”

Yim removed Neeg’s saddle and saddlebags, drank some water, and forced herself to eat some bread. Then she spread Honus’s cloak on the ground and lay upon it. Though the otherworldly chill never left her, Yim detected the onset of a fever. It produced warring sensations that were both unpleasant and wearing. Yim lay on her good side, staring at the grass—it looked like a forest so close up—while her body alternated between hot and cold. Though it was still light, she drifted toward sleep.

Yim’s last thoughts were of Honus. She wondered where he was and what he was doing, thinking, and feeling. She felt that she would be asking those questions for the rest of her life, and the answers would always be the same—“I don’t know.” That didn’t prevent Yim from guessing. She worried that he was trancing to seek memories of happiness on the Dark Path after being so disappointed by life. She wondered if such memories could be found in so empty a spot, if the ground she lay upon had at one time been home to folk with their measures of sorrows and bliss.
 
If so, will Honus chance upon their joys or their tragedies? I’ll never know 
.

Perhaps Neeg had understood everything Yim said to him. Perhaps the Old Ones worked some charm. Either way, the horse acted differently the following morning. He gently nuzzled Yim at dawn and persisted until she rose, feverish and bleary. Yim drank some water, colored the grass with a pinkish stream of urine, munched some bread, packed the saddlebags, and lifted them onto the stallion. She felt drained by the effort, and was worrying how she would ever manage the saddle when Neeg knelt on the ground. Yim had the impression that he wanted her to climb on his back. She did so easily. Then the horse rose, and
 without any direction from Yim, headed northward at an easy pace.

The rest of the day was mostly a haze to Yim. Somehow, she managed to stay on the horse. That was her sole contribution to the journey. There were times when the fever made her forget where she was headed or why. Neeg took charge. He chose the route and anticipated all of Yim’s other needs. In the late afternoon, he stopped for the day by a shallow pool where Yim found some relief by bathing. They spent the night there.

The next day was worse for Yim. By midmorning, she became delirious. Then she felt that she was headed in the wrong direction. In her mind’s eye, she saw a huge castle perched on a cliff overlooking an expanse of water that reached to the horizon. The castle was either made of iron or plated with it. The oiled metal was black and had a sheen that reflected the blue of the sky and water. It was a compelling image, and Yim knew it was a real place, a place she must reach at once. She even knew where it lay.

“Neeg!” Yim cried out. “You’re going the wrong way! Head west! Head west!”

The stallion continued on its northward course.

“Head west, you stupid beast!” Yim began to sob. “Why won’t you listen to me?” She grabbed the horse’s mane to use as a rein and wrench it westward. The horse resisted, and eventually Yim’s efforts spent her strength. She slumped on her horse’s back, sobbing with frustration. Images of the iron fortress gradually faded as she slipped into gruesome dreams.

The following day, Yim’s fever broke and her urine was a paler shade of pink. She felt drained and weak, but clearheaded. When she tried to recall the previous day, nothing came to her except the disturbing feeling that the evil within her had briefly gained the upper hand and only Neeg had resisted it. Yim cooked porridge for the first time since she had made some for Honus, and when she had eaten, the
 horse knelt so she might mount him. Then she rode off with a fuller appreciation of the expression “horse sense.”

Yim’s journey northward fell into a routine in which one day blended with the next. That was partly due to Yim having lost her edge. Although her illness gradually abated, it left her weakened. Whenever she overexerted herself, she grew dizzy. Once, she even fainted, something she had never done before in her life. Yim told herself that she’d get better, but feared it wouldn’t happen until after her child was born.

Neeg chose the route, for Yim had come to trust the horse as she had Kwahku. She never encountered another person on her journey. Whether that was due to the land’s emptiness or intention on the horse’s part, she never knew. The result was the same either way; no one marked her passage. The land changed slowly over time. It grew flatter. Trees lined meandering streams. Occasionally, they encountered ruins.

Yim noted personal changes more than those of the landscape. The child grew larger and more active within her womb. Her appetite returned with such a vengeance that she began to forage to supplement her provisions. Her breasts swelled further, and she sometimes found a thick yellowish fluid on her nipples. Her ankles and fingers swelled. When the shape of Yim’s belly changed, she knew that her son’s head was pointed toward the birth canal. That was when she began to experience sharp sporadic pains in her lower back. Then Yim knew that the baby could come any day.

It was then that Yim entered a vast, boggy region of tea-colored water and broad stretches of grayish green reeds.
 
This must be the Grey Fens 
, she thought. It was a landscape so flat that it was dominated by the sky. The fens’ monotony was broken only by occasional clumps of trees that grew on patches of slightly higher and drier ground. Those were few and widely scattered. There were no roads or dwellings, and for the first time, Yim questioned where Neeg was taking her. Still, she let him take her onward, for she had no alternative; the horse was in charge.

After they entered the fens, the route Neeg took was no longer straight, for much of the ground was treacherous. A patch of greenery might be growing in soil or upon a floating mat of vegetation. If it was the latter, a step would plunge through seemingly solid earth into murky waters. Yim found that out the hard way several times. By means Yim couldn’t understand, Neeg seemed able to distinguish the driest route, although little in the fens was completely dry. After a while, Yim felt she had entered a maze that she might never leave.

Yim traveled ever deeper into the fens. On the morning of the third day, she spotted something new. Near the horizon, huge outcroppings of gray rock jutted from the reeds like mountain peaks poking above a layer of cloud. The out-croppings reminded Yim somewhat of home, and she was pleased when Neeg headed in their direction. Because of the boggy ground, the horse’s approach was indirect and it was a long while before Yim was close enough to see wisps of smoke rising from some of the larger outcroppings.

Toward late afternoon, Yim felt pains in her lower back. At first, she thought they would go away as had the previous ones. It was only wishful thinking. Instead, the pains began to come more often and their intensity increased. Neeg picked up his pace without any signal from Yim. Although his more jolting gait added to Yim’s discomfort, she understood the importance of haste. She didn’t want to give birth in a bog, but time was running out.

The limestone outcropping that lay ahead resembled a tiny mountain. Trees even grew on its sides. To Yim it seemed a haven, but one that might be out of reach. Although it was near, Neeg didn’t head straight for it. He took a serpentine path instead. Yim assumed that he was choosing the most solid way, although she saw little that distinguished one patch of the fens from another. As the frequency of Yim’s pains increased, the horse sped faster. He also seemed to be taking more risks, for sometimes he chose to splash through dark
 water and muck. The jostling was excruciating when combined with the increasingly wrenching contractions. Yim gritted her teeth, and grabbed Neeg’s mane so she wouldn’t fall.

Yim knew far better than most first-time mothers what was in store for her. She had attended many births. But holding a moaning woman’s hand while she suffered through the process and being that woman were quite different things. Yim was discovering how different. She was actually surprised when her water burst, soaking her legs and Neeg’s flanks.