[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (9 page)

By late afternoon, Gatt found the remains of Yim and Honus’s campfire. It was exactly where he expected it to be, providing final proof that he had received a vision. Examining the ashes, he saw that his quarry had been there that morning. Gatt studied Yim’s footprints and concluded she walked laden with a pack.
 
That means she’s still masquerading as a Bearer 
. Gatt smiled.
 
That pack will slow her down and also tire her 
. He had no doubt his horse could catch up with the impostor before day’s end.

Again, Gatt saw Karm’s hand in events, for he would reach his quarry at the perfect moment. Wearied from a day of traveling, Yim would be an easy target. Gatt knew that exhaustion dulled wariness.
 
If I’m subtle, she won’t anticipate my attack. And when she’s dead, there’ll be no need to fight Honus 
. Gatt envisioned the Sarf freed from his sorcerous
 bounds and returned to righteousness. He exulted at the prospect.

High hills hid the setting sun, so the road was shadowed while daylight lingered in the sky. Yim trod wearily down the road, refusing to halt before dusk. Exhausted, she was largely oblivious of her surroundings. Then Honus’s pace altered and alerted her that something had changed. Sensing tension in his movements, she asked, “What is it, Honus?”

“Don’t you hear it?”

Yim listened and detected the faint sound of hoofbeats mingling with the noise of the turbulent river. “Someone’s coming,” she said.

“Someone in a hurry.”

Honus and Yim stepped to the roadside to observe whoever raced down the highway. The road twisted with the river, and for a long while the only hint of the approaching rider was the staccato hoofbeats of his mount. When a blueclad and blue-faced horseman finally rounded the bend in the road he was quite close. “A Sarf!” said Yim. He was the second Sarf that she had ever seen, and despite knowing that he served Karm, she felt the same apprehension as when she first saw Honus.

The Sarf reined his horse to a stop and dismounted before bowing to Yim. “Greetings, Karmamatus.”

Yim returned his bow. “Greetings. I’m Yim.”

“Honus, do you remember me?” asked the Sarf.

“You were to be Daven’s Sarf when I was last at temple. How fares he?”

“Fallen. I’m Gatt.”

“What sends you to us, Gatt?” asked Yim. Gatt ambled toward Yim with an easy manner, smiling more broadly than seemed natural for a Sarf. “Karm sent me.”

Yim was about to reply when both Gatt and Honus burst
 into action. Their bodies seemed to blur, and the air about them flashed as blades sped through it. There was a metallic clang, and for an instant, Yim saw two crossed swords. The edge of Gatt’s blade was aimed toward her neck. Honus’s sword blocked its path. Then the blades blurred again as the two men began fighting. Yim stood transfixed by shock until Honus shouted, “Flee, Yim!” Then he turned all his attention to his foe.

Yim retreated a distance, but she didn’t run away. She was terrified and confused by what was happening; yet the battle in progress was an engrossing sight. She had seen Honus fight before, but never against such an opponent. Both attacked and parried with dazzling swiftness and mingled their blows with feats of acrobatic skill. The fight had the grace of a vicious dance and the energy of a cyclone. There were no taunts or curses, no words of any kind; both men fought in silent concentration, fully engaged in a deadly game of lightning moves. They were so intent on their contest that neither man’s face bore any expression other than the one tattooed upon it: Honus seemed wrathful. Gatt appeared stern and harsh. Yim dared not speak for fear of distracting Honus and causing his death.

The combat dragged on, and after a while, Yim perceived a pattern. Both opponents were evenly matched, but they seemed to have different objectives. Yim saw that Gatt was fighting to reach her while Honus was struggling to bar his way. As soon as she saw that, Yim shed the pack and darted off, for she realized that her presence endangered Honus. As she sped down the road, the clash of swords continued briefly, then stopped. Yim spun around to see what had happened. Gatt was bounding after her, his blade raised to strike. Honus was in pursuit.

Yim knew she couldn’t outrun the Sarf. She dashed for the river, and without further thought, jumped in. As she passed through emptiness, she felt a gentle tug on her flowing hair. Then she hit the water. Yim gritted her teeth, fearing she
 might strike a hidden rock. Instead, cold shocked the breath from her as she plunged beneath the river’s turbulent surface. The current gripped her like a huge, icy hand intent on holding her from breath and life. Yim struggled against it, impeded by her sandals and waterlogged garments. She broke through the frothing surface and gasped for air. The Sarf was standing on the bank, his sword still extended. A clump of Yim’s severed hair floated down to vanish in the surging current. Then Honus arrived, and the two Sarfs resumed their fight. As the river swept her away, Yim watched their contest. Then a watery curtain obscured the scene as she sank into the depths.

The Yorvern had saved Yim from the Sarf, but it threatened to drown her. She had learned to swim in a highland lake; a raging river was far different. Its current fought her every movement, rushing her downstream and clawing at her clothing. She was at its mercy until she kicked off her sandals and shed her garments. The latter was difficult, but once she was free of them she could move unencumbered and the current had less to grip. Yim swam toward a tiny island, but the river swept her past it. She aimed for another and missed it also.

A boulder loomed downstream. Yim fought toward it. This time, she reached her target only to be slammed against it. It was a bruising collision, and then Yim had to claw at the rock to prevent being pulled from it. Her refuge was wet and slippery; moreover, she was numbed by cold. Climbing onto the rock was a struggle that she almost lost. Twice, she slipped back into the foaming water before reaching safety.

Naked, scraped, and shivering, Yim huddled upon the rock while her fate was being decided. The river had carried her far enough downstream that Honus and Gatt were hidden from view. From the sound of ringing steel Yim knew that their fight continued. The swords made lethal music with an irregular cadence, and as long as Yim could hear it she knew the opponents lived. Thus she both longed for its
 end and dreaded it, for silence would most likely signal death.
 
If Honus dies, I will, too 
.

The sky darkened, and still the swords rang. The trees on the shore blurred into inky shadows that blended with the hills behind them. Suddenly, the only sounds Yim heard were watery ones. The quiet was ominous, and she strained to hear any hint of the battle’s outcome. For a long while, Yim heard nothing. Then hoofbeats broke the stillness. As they faded away, Yim slumped her head and wept.

TEN

A
VOICE called from the dark. “Yim!”

Its faintness conjured up images of Honus lying mortally wounded. “Honus?” Yim shouted. “Honus, are you all right?”

After a period of agonizing silence, Yim heard the voice again. This time it was louder. “Yim, where are you?”

“Over here!” she shouted. “On a rock in the river!”

Another spell of silence was broken at last by Honus’s voice. It sounded closer. “Yim, where are you?”

“Here! Are you all right?”

“I’m unscathed,” called Honus from the shore. “Gatt has fled.”

Yim peered at the bank, but the moon had yet to rise, and the shore was only a formless patch of shadow. She wondered if Honus could see her nakedness. Honus called out again. “Can you swim to shore?”

“Bring my cloak first!”

“I will.”

While Yim waited on the rock, she steeled herself for another swim. The dark river seemed a gray void with mist flowing over it. Already chilled, Yim dreaded plunging in. Then she heard Honus. “I have it, Yim.”

Yim jumped and the river seized her. This time, she swam obliquely toward the shore, rather than opposing the current. The frigid water swept her around one bend and then toward a second one with a gravel beach. Yim swam toward the beach. Nearing it, she could make out Honus’s dark form against the gray. The cold turned her limbs leaden as she struggled to reach the shore.

Yim made it. By the time she staggered onto the gravel, she was too cold and exhausted to care that she was nude. Honus rushed forward and covered her with the cloak. Then he wrapped his arms around her trembling torso, pressing his hot cheek again her frigid one. He said nothing, but the ferventness of his embrace betrayed his feelings.

As always, Yim felt uncomfortable when Honus showed affection. Yet this time she didn’t stop him.
 
He saved my life 
, she thought.
 
At least, I owe him this 
. Eventually, Honus sensed Yim’s awkwardness and released her. “Why did that man attack us?” asked Yim.

“I can only guess,” replied Honus.

“Didn’t he say anything?”

“No more than what you heard.”

“But how did you know he’d attack?”

“His manner was wrong,” replied Honus. “His bow to you wasn’t low, and he spoke to me without your permission. A Sarf would never show such disrespect to a Bearer.”

“So he wasn’t a Sarf?”

“Oh, Gatt’s a Sarf. No question of that. But I doubt he believes you’re a Bearer.”

“Maybe I’m not,” said Yim. “Not really.”

“You are by all that’s holy.”

“How could he know that?”

“Whether he could or not, he had no cause to slay you.”

“But that’s what he meant to do,” said Yim. Then, in a quiet voice, she added, “This isn’t over, is it?”

“No,” said Honus. “But before you come to harm, he’ll have to slay me first.”

Yim returned to the pack and put on dry clothes. When the moon rose, she shouldered her burden. There was no question of resting anytime soon. Honus advised getting far from the road by a route that couldn’t be followed on horseback. That meant climbing the hills at night. Having lost her sandals, Yim would have to do it barefoot. She felt discouraged by the prospect.

At first, Honus followed the road. When he reached a particularly steep and rocky slope, he left the highway and began to climb, saying, “Follow close behind and place your feet where I do.”

Yim did her best, fearing that Gatt was as adept at tracking as Honus. If that were true, then his skills would be formidable. She remembered Honus saying that it was difficult to hide a trail at night, so she was particularly mindful of where she placed her feet. Nevertheless, as time wore on, Yim’s exhaustion and the dark worked against her. Whenever possible, Honus walked on stony ground that would leave no footprints. This practice left Yim footsore, despite having trekked through Luvein unshod.

Yim was panting by the time the ground became less steep. Though trees hid the path ahead, Yim assumed they had reached a ridgeline and the way would be easier. “Thank Karm for a level path at last!” she said.

“Your gratitude is premature,” said Honus. “An easy path is a likely path. We dare not take it.”

“Honus, I don’t think I can go much farther.”

“Perhaps I should carry the pack awhile.”

As soon as Honus made the suggestion, Yim saw why it went against tradition. Honus was her sole protection. Encumbered by a pack or even wearied after bearing one, he
 would be less effective. “No,” said Yim. “But we must rest soon. Pick our way with that in mind.” She didn’t say that she doubted that they would evade the Sarf for long.
 
Whatever way we take 
, thought Yim,
 
must end with someone’s death 
.

Leading the way, Honus headed down the western side of the ridge. He didn’t go far, but the route he took was much more difficult than the one he used to reach the ridge’s crest. The final leg involved descending a stretch of nearly vertical rock wall. There, Yim relented and let Honus bear the pack. Even climbing down without it, she nearly fell. They camped without the benefit of a fire beneath an overhanging ledge near the top of the cliff. There wasn’t enough room to lie down and Yim slept sitting up, leaning against Honus.

Dawn came all too soon. Yim rubbed her eyes wearily, for throughout her short sleep she had kept waking, certain that Gatt was sneaking up on them. Each time she woke, Yim would listen anxiously until fatigue overcame her fear and she dozed off. Honus also stirred with the light. He had been awake every time Yim had been, and she wondered if he had slept at all.

Yim opened the pack and searched for something that could be eaten without cooking. She came up with a leaf-wrapped package of smoked fish that Maryen had given them. She and Honus shared the fish in silence. As Yim ate, she surveyed the countryside. The ledge on which they sat was high up on the ridge’s slope. Viewed in daylight, their perch seemed precarious, and Yim grew dizzy when she peered at the drop below.

The ledge afforded a good view, and from its vantage point Yim saw that they had entered the highlands. To the north, she glimpsed a portion of the Yorvern River and Luvein beyond it. Trees hid the road and a nearby ridge hid the rest of the river. That ridge, like the one they were on, snaked southward, rising gradually before joining a small mountain. To
 the west were higher mountains, their peaks rising like waves on a choppy lake. They faded off in the distance without seeming to end. Yim pointed to them. “Is that Averen?”