[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (35 page)

“Were you pleased, my lord?” asked Yim, for it seemed prudent to inquire.

Bahl grunted and rolled over on his side, facing away. Yim lay perfectly still, wondering if it had been for nothing. She felt raw inside and ventured to touch between her legs. Her fingers came up bloody.

Yim shivered as she waited for Lord Bahl’s breathing to assume the evenness of sleep. His unnatural chill had made her feel that she had been tupped by a corpse. Worse, Bahl’s chill lingered in her despite the blazing fire. In fact, Yim grew colder as time passed. As her discomfort increased, it was accompanied by the disturbing impression that something alien had invaded her body. It felt like a taint of the vilest sort. The mere thought of her pollution made Yim nauseous.

Yim had no guarantee that she would conceive, but since Karm had directed her to Bahl toward that end, it seemed likely. Regardless of the night’s outcome, Yim was certain that the malign entity within Lord Bahl had entered her. Apparently, it had left him to do so, for the man lying beside her was growing warm. Yim envisioned him waking sweaty for the first time ever in his overheated room and realizing that their encounter had been no ordinary tryst. Yim’s only option was to flee. She waited until Lord Bahl slept, then slipped from his bed.

Having been preoccupied by her immediate goal, Yim had ignored the consequences of success. Suddenly forced to consider them, she saw that they could be as dire as failure. There was no question that Lord Bahl and the Most Holy Gorm would recognize her duplicity. Even if she became pregnant, she would be doomed if captured. Yim felt confident that Bahl wouldn’t harm her as long as she carried his child, but her fate after delivery would be a different matter.
 Yim doubted she would long survive the birth: There were many tales about the men who became Lord Bahl, but none mentioned a Lady Bahl.
 
And if my son’s raised like his father, the destruction will begin anew 
. To prevent that and to live, she must escape and do so before morning.

THIRTY
-
SIX

HAVING LEFT
Lord Bahl’s bed, Yim walked over to the cloak she had discarded and put it on. Then, after glancing at Bahl to assure that he still slept, she crept from his room. As she descended the winding stairs, the soreness and bleeding between her legs and her deepening chill evoked the violent consummation of her lifelong quest. Yim couldn’t help but feel bitter upon recalling her first vision and how Karm had smiled at her.
 
I was only a child when she named me the Chosen 
. Yim felt blood trickle down her thigh.
 
And this is what she meant by that!
 
Yim was painfully aware that the goddess had known where her path would lead.
 
Did the Wise Woman know also? Did the Seer? Did the Old Ones?

Yim realized that she must shut such questions from her mind if she was to survive the night. She paused on the stairway to compose herself. It wasn’t easy, but she managed. Then, after taking a deep breath, Yim entered the hallway and slipped into Yaun’s room. The air inside the chamber reeked of burnt flesh, and an otherworldly coldness lingered, although the spirits had departed. Yim caught a glimpse of the blackened thing in the fireplace and quickly looked away. Then she began to search the room. She would need
 more clothing than a cloak, and her flimsy gown wouldn’t do, even if it had remained intact.

Yim was rifling through Yaun’s gaudy wardrobe, trying to find something suitable, when she glanced at the pile of rags. Among them was a woman’s shift. Yim went over to it and discovered that all the rags had been women’s garments. Examining them, she found that they were torn and bloodstained. Yim had little doubt how they got that way. After much searching, she found a homespun shift and a baggy gray blouse that weren’t entirely blood-soaked. Both were ripped, but when worn in combination, the garments covered her. Then she found Yaun’s plainest pair of trousers and pulled them on over the shift and blouse, using them to fill the wide waistband. The pants were too fine for peasant wear, but Yim hoped that it wouldn’t be apparent in the dark. Taking a pair of blood-encrusted shears from Yaun’s collection of torture instruments, Yim cut the fur trim from the count’s dark-brown cloak. Then she cut a bloody rag and made a bandage to wrap about her head and hide her hair. All of the weapons in Yaun’s chamber were conspicuously bejeweled. Yim took none of them, for her only hope to escape lay in blending with Bahl’s ragged peasant army.

Thus attired, Yim entered the dim hallway. It was empty, but she could hear the footsteps of guards making their rounds. Yim listened. The sounds seemed to be coming from around a bend in the corridor. She sprinted for the stairway leading to the lower level, her bare feet making little noise as she ran.

The stairway exited in the dark banquet hall, where Yim was alarmed to spot three armored soldiers bearing torches. They were walking along the upright poles and inspecting the bodies impaled upon them. A dozen or more peasant troops followed behind them. “We’re to take down only the ripe ones,” said the leading soldier with a torch. “Use yer nose ta pick them out.”

“Pah! They all stink ta me,” said another soldier.

“Shut yer gob!” said the first. “Ye know a fresh corpse from a stale one.”

The third soldier laughed. “Aye, we’ve made enough of them.” The three halted before the blond woman skewered on a pole near the table’s head and gazed at her lifeless form. “This birdie can roost another night,” said the lead soldier. He moved to the next stake. “Phew! This bitch goes to the dump.” He turned to the peasant soldiers. “Hop to it!”

Upon hearing this, the peasants moved to lift the pole out of its iron socket. As they struggled to do this, the soldiers with the torches moved farther down the row. Staying in the shadows, Yim reached the men just as they lowered the pole to the floor. None of them seemed anxious to touch the gray, stiff body, and that gave Yim the opportunity to seize an ankle. Then three men grabbed the other limbs to slide the body off the stake. Even free from the wooden pole, the corpse retained its bent posture, making it an awkward burden for Yim and the others who lifted it.

One of the torch-bearing soldiers shouted back. “Get it out of here!”

Yim helped bear the grisly burden out of the banquet hall, through the corridors of the keep, across the courtyard, past the guards at the gatehouse, and into a moonlit field filled with scattered encampments. Although Yim had passed through the field only once before, she immediately noticed a change. She no longer sensed a malign presence, and though she doubted the ragged men could perceive the change, they appeared to be reacting to it. The men seemed agitated. Many were up and pacing about, despite the late hour. Sleepers tossed and turned. They woke in increasing numbers as Yim watched.

The men who bore the corpse with Yim headed for a large pile of bodies in the center of the field. They halted when they reached the putrefying mound, and tossed the dead woman upon it. When they turned to head back to the
 stronghold, Yim dropped to the ground on the shadowed side of the pile and lay still.

“Where’s that other bloke?” asked one of the men. “The one with the bandage.”

Yim quickly pulled the cloth from her head before another man answered. “I don’t know. He was just here.”

“Maybe the stench drove him off. ‘tis enough ta gag ya.”

“It never bothered ye afore.”

“Nay, but tonight I smell it. Tonight I feel different.”

“Aye, me, too,” said another voice. “That lad had the right idea. I’ll na go back either.”

“But Lord Bahl…”

“Tup Lord Bahl.”

There was a spell of silence, and Yim had to resist the urge to lift her head and see what was going on. Then she heard a laugh that had a hysteric edge. “Tup Lord Bahl. Aye, tup him. Tup him!”

“Hush! Ye dare na say that!”

“Why na?” said another voice, “I say tup Bahl, too. I’m weary of his shit. Are na ye weary also?”

“Aye, but…”

“Then walk away. Walk away with me. Spitting lasses on poles! What kind of thing is that? I’ll be his dog na more!”

Yim heard yet another voice. It was filled with dismay. “What have we done? Oh Karm, what have we done?” Then she heard quiet sobbing.

Other peasant soldiers began to sob, and the sobbing spread. In the encampments, more men were awakening, and each wakening spurred additional ones. Soon it seemed to Yim that remorse was like a wind passing over the field, shaking each individual. The night grew noisy with lamentation. While grief was the dominant emotion, there were others also. Mingled with the men who wept were those who cursed or prayed or bellowed with rage.

When Yim lifted her head to peer around, the peasant army appeared transformed. No longer governed by a single
 will, it was falling into chaos. More and more men milled about. They seemed confused, as if suddenly wakened from moons of stupor. Their numbers swelled rapidly until Yim was in the midst of an agitated mob.

Yim hid her hair beneath the bandage and stood up. She was frightened and wary, for she feared that those who had been deepest under Lord Bahl’s spell were still filled with hate and might never get free of it. Sure enough, she saw deadly frays break out as some men turned on their fellows. Furthermore, she knew that Bahl had soldiers who fought for him willingly and would remain loyal. It seemed likely that he would loose them on all deserting peasants. Before he did, she must get away.

As Yim began to flee, the chaos increased. By then, it seemed that no man was unaffected. The encampments scattered like overturned ant nests. Tattered soldiers were everywhere. Most wandered aimlessly in the dark, and many were dangerous. One huge fellow walked about swinging a gore-covered ax at anyone in his erratic path. Having just killed a man, he turned in Yim’s direction. She darted from him and ran into someone else.

The startled man cursed and swung at Yim. She ducked, but the blow grazed her head and pulled the bandage from it. The man stared at Yim’s long hair and beardless face. Then he grinned. “You’re a lass!” Before Yim could get away, he grabbed her arm. “‘tis been a long time since I had a lass.” He was reaching for her waistband when another man pushed him aside. Yim thought that she had been rescued until the second man grabbed her loose trousers and yanked them below her knees.

The skirt of Yim’s shift tumbled down to cover her legs, and this seemed to briefly confuse her attacker. Before he could react, the first man grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away. The two began to fight. As they rolled on the ground and pummeled one another, Yim tried to run away, only to be tripped by Yaun’s trousers. As she fell, she saw
 one of the fighting men draw a dagger. Then someone was attempting to tug off her pants. He was having difficulty because his right hand was mutilated. Yim tried to kick him, but the fabric about her ankles prevented it.

“Be still!” shouted the man. “Ye can’t run with these about yer feet.”