The Iron Palace (52 page)

Yim thought of those she loved: Froan and Honus, Cara
and Cronin. Hommy and Hamin. Gurdy. Hendric. Rappali. Even Gatt. Each name suggested another, and when she ran out of names she thought of the nameless ones who had suffered: The faithful slaughtered in Karm’s temple. The victims of war and feuding. Those enslaved. All souls yearning for compassion.
Lila and Thistle called me Mother
, she thought.
So did the Old Ones
. At last, Yim felt the name fit, for at that moment she was everyone’s mother, struggling for everyone’s sake. She loved all who had ever lived, and from that love came strength.

The Devourer’s power lay in fear and hate. Love was alien to it, and so was love’s might. That gave Yim the advantage of surprise. The thing she grasped writhed, unable to break free. Then Yim strained to pull it toward her. Soon she realized that she was drawing the evil from her son. Yim could feel it growing within her—a vile thing, cold and baleful—but she didn’t relent. Once Yim understood that she was winning, she redoubled her efforts. Suddenly, the lips upon her neck turned warm and fell away. Yim contained the entirety of her foe. She knew precisely what to do.
What’s necessary
. She rose and bounded toward the sun and the sea.

Honus knew that the priest’s knife stroke had severed an artery when he saw a stream of blood spurt from Yim’s neck. All too familiar with the sadism of Bahl’s minions, he was surprised that the priest would inflict such a relatively quick death. That opinion changed to horror when he witnessed Yim’s son kneel down to suck the wound. His revulsion grew when he saw that the lad was not merely tasting her blood but gulping it down like an infant suckling from a breast. Honus was about to turn his face away in disgust when something caught his eye.

Yim’s every muscle tensed. At first, Honus thought it was from pain, but that didn’t seem quite right. Yim raised her hands over her chest, her splayed fingers seeming to
grasp the empty air above it. Then the air didn’t seem entirely empty. There was something nebulous there. It looked like dark haze.

Despite its vaporous appearance, the thing Yim grasped terrified Honus. The air turned so chill it nearly stopped his breath. Moreover, an aura of malevolence sapped his strength. He wasn’t alone in his reaction. Both of the priests stood white-faced and immobile, their mouths slack with fear. Only Froan appeared unaffected as his lips remained on his mother’s neck. As Honus continued to watch, the haze grew darker until it resembled a shadow given physical form. It was as repulsive as a gigantic leech.

Froan fell back. As he stared up at his mother, she sat upright and the mask fell away. Then Honus saw that Yim had been blinded. Although she was sightless, she moved with purpose and vigor. Still clutching the dark thing close, Yim slid from the stone block, and with three powerful bounds, dashed off the platform and sailed into the sky. For an instant, she seemed suspended in air—a swirl of white and black. Then she silently plummeted from view.

Everyone upon the deck was perfectly still. Honus had no choice. Froan stared at the patch of sky that had held his mother. He appeared changed, and despite Honus’s earlier impressions, his feelings went out to the boy. The two priests looked stunned, apparently unable to grasp what had taken place.

The priest who wore the gold chain moved first, or rather his skin moved. It developed a wet sheen and began to ripple as if tiny creatures were moving beneath its surface. The priest’s face turned grayish and swelled a bit before those creatures began emerging from his pores. To Honus, they looked like maggots, except they were gray and grew with unnatural speed. As they commenced consuming the man’s flesh, he still didn’t seem to understand what was happening. He raised his hands to his face to
touch it, but gray worms also covered his fingers. As he watched, his nails fell off like withered leaves. Honus could glimpse patches of yellow bone beneath the crawling gray.

When the priest saw his ruined hands, he screamed in terror, but the horrendous noise was soon muffled by the gray, living vomit that boiled from his mouth. Then it seemed to Honus that all the agents of decay feasted on the man without ending his suffering. He lost his skin, yet his lidless eyes still moved, filled with panic and agony. They continued doing so even when they peered from sockets in a yellowish skull. The mouth opened and closed long after its lips, cheeks, and tongue were gone. It stopped only when the jawbone tumbled to the iron deck.

Still, the man remained standing for far longer than Honus believed possible, a living skeleton swathed in black. At last, the gruesome remnant of the priest collapsed, yet still it moved feebly. The remaining priest watched in appalled silence as the man was reduced to bone that crumbled into dust that the sea wind blew away.

The whole process seemed quick, but when it was over, Honus realized that it was dusk. Both the priest and Froan appeared as stunned as Honus felt, but the priest recovered first. He grinned and lifted up the golden chain from the dusty pile of crumpled clothes. Then he held it up to admire in the dying light. A single gray maggot fell from the links onto his wrist. He tried to flick it off, but it disappeared beneath his skin. Dropping the gold chain, the priest clawed at his wrist with his nails. Although he bloodied himself, it was of no use. His hand turned grayish and began to swell. When maggots broke through his skin, the man shrieked. He glanced about in panic, then leapt from the deck. His screams stopped only when he struck the rocks below.

That left Froan and Honus atop the tower. Throughout the priests’ grisly deaths, Froan’s attention remained focused on the empty sky, and his expression was a combination of revelation and despair. Then he rose as one waking
from a nightmare. He picked up the stone blade and walked toward Honus. For an instant, Honus thought the boy would cut his throat. Then he saw Froan’s eyes. They had become as dark as Yim’s, and tears streamed from them. Without a word, Froan carefully sliced through Honus’s bindings. It took a while, and when Honus was finally free, Froan held out the knife. “Kill me. I deserve it.”

Honus took the knife. Froan shut his flowing eyes. Then it finally occurred to Honus that the boy’s grief might match his own. Honus’s feelings of shock and loss were so great that he could scarcely think, but he realized that he must. He had to, for Yim’s sake. She had sacrificed her life for Froan. Honus felt his duty was to ensure her sacrifice hadn’t been pointless. He tried to use his training to subdue his grief, but only his love for Yim allowed him to succeed.

Froan was still waiting for the fatal blow, so Honus raised the knife. Then, with all his strength, Honus threw it down on the iron deck. As the blade shattered, he grabbed Froan in case the boy tried to leap to his death. Hugging him close, Honus said, “Your mother traded her life for yours. She wanted you to live.”

Froan began to sob, and each sob racked his entire body. All the while, Honus held him in a gentle but firm grip. It was a long time before Froan was able to speak. “I didn’t know she was Mam. I thought she was dead.” Froan seemed on the verge of sobbing again. “Why should I live? I’ve led such an evil life!”

“Your mother never believed you were evil, only that evil possessed you,” said Honus. “Now you’re free of the Devourer, and the world is also. Today, your mother fulfilled her life’s purpose.”

“Her life’s purpose? Mam was only a goatherd.”

“She was far more than that. Karm named her the Chosen. Your mother was destined to bear you, and she believed that she was destined to save you, too.”

Froan looked confused. “The Chosen?” he said. “She never told me that.”

“How could she? You were possessed by the Devourer. But know this: Your mother was holy.”

“And I thought … I thought she was nobody.”

“Because she wore no golden chain about her neck?”

Tears welled in Froan’s eyes. “Because she was just my mam.”

“For a while, I thought she was just a slave, someone to carry my pack.”

“What changed your mind?”

“One night in Karm’s ruined temple, she revealed herself to me. Not all of herself, but enough that I saw her holiness and became her Sarf. Then my role was to serve her and follow her guidance. I believe that’s still my role. Allow me to serve her by helping you.”

“Mam spoke of you,” said Froan. “She said you were my father.”

The revelation came as a surprise, and it was a long moment before Honus replied. “I should take that as an omen.”

“Then tell me what to do.”

“For a start, get far from here.”

“But I can’t leave Mam lying on the rocks.”

“No, we can’t,” said Honus. “But we should go to her now. Chaos will soon rule this place.”

“I know a way,” said Froan.

Before leaving the tower’s platform, Honus retrieved the golden mask, but he left the gold chain untouched. After they exited the tower through an iron door and descended two flights of stairs, Froan led Honus to a luxurious suite of rooms paneled in dark wood. In one of them, Froan pulled aside a particularly gruesome tapestry. Behind it was a paneled wall that looked no different from the others. Yet when Froan pushed against the wood, the paneling proved
to be a door. Beyond it were torches, along with the means to light them, and spiral stairs leading downward.

Froan lit a torch, handed it to Honus, and lit one for himself. “I’ve never used these stairs, but they’re supposed to lead to the bottom of the cliff.”

“Do you want to get anything before we leave?” asked Honus.

“Everything here belongs to Lord Bahl,” said Froan. “I’ll take nothing but this robe on my back.” He pulled the door closed.

The climb down the second set of spiral stairs was far longer than the climb from the tower. Honus surmised they had passed below the palace’s lowest floor when the stairs and walls were no longer built of stone blocks but were carved from solid rock. The effort required to create such a stairway seemed evidence of Lord Bahl’s power. Honus reflected that Yim had succeeded in overcoming that power while army after army had failed. That thought caused his grief to return with renewed force, and he had to struggle against it.
There’ll be ample time to mourn later
, he told himself.
Get Froan to safety first
.

The stairway was narrow and steep. It also seemed endless, but eventually they reached an iron door. “When this door closes,” said Froan, “we won’t be able to open it from the outside.”

“Then say farewell to the Iron Palace.”

They pushed the heavy door open and discovered its exterior was covered with stone. Beyond the opening was a jumble of huge boulders. No moon shone, so the black rocks outside the circle of torchlight blended into a mass of shadow. Froan and Honus advanced into the shadow to search for Yim’s remains. Behind them, the door slammed shut and merged with the cliff.

The damp air was filled with the sounds and smells of the restless sea, which left pools in the low places between boulders. In one such pool, he found what was left of the
More Holy Stregg. His shattered corpse was crawling with crabs. Honus hoped that Yim had fared better. He and Froan wandered about for a long time before Froan’s torch illuminated something white atop the highest boulder. He called to Honus, and they went to investigate together.

They discovered Yim’s tunic. It was perfectly dry and the girdle was still tied about its waist. That was all they found. There was no body, nor even a bloodstain. The garment lay there as if Yim had stripped it off and cast it down before vanishing into thin air. Honus stared at it, shaking his head in puzzlement. “Let’s keep looking,” said Froan.

Seeking clues of Yim’s final moments, Honus attempted to trance. However, for the first time since he was a small boy, he was unable to visit the Dark Path. He tried for a long while before concluding that Karm had withdrawn her gift. Afterward, Honus resumed searching for Yim, even though he was convinced that they would find nothing. He had no explanation for his conviction, so he didn’t mention it to Froan. They searched long into the night, but the tunic proved the only trace of Yim. At last, as gently as possible, Honus suggested that they leave. “I fear what the dawn will bring,” he said. Then he told a lie. “And I’m certain the sea has claimed your mother’s body.”

The two climbed the steps carved into the bayside cliff and crossed the narrow ledge behind the palace’s rear wall. When Honus reached the crevice containing the hidden packs, he climbed down to retrieve them. He also brought up Yim’s cloak and gave it to Froan. They headed south just as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. Both Froan and Honus were tired, but they knew that Bahland was on the brink of anarchy and not all evil had departed from the world. They trudged onward until noon. Then they rested as a column of black smoke began to rise from the direction of the Iron Palace.

H
ONUS AND
Froan ate their first meal together in awkward silence. Instead of talking, they watched smoke from the distant palace smudge the sky. Honus was unsure what to say, and he sensed Froan felt the same way. Although Honus had become Theodus’s Sarf at only sixteen, he couldn’t help but see Froan as a boy. Moreover, their differences went far beyond age. Every aspect of their lives differed: Froan had grown up with Yim in the Grey Fens. Honus had reached manhood in Karm’s temple without ever seeing his parents. Aside from those few facts, Honus knew nothing of Froan’s life, except that he had been Lord Bahl. He assumed Froan was equally ignorant about him.

Yim is all we have in common
, thought Honus. Nevertheless, that seemed a significant bond. Yim had loved Froan, and to honor her, Honus felt that he should try to befriend her son. Wondering how to bridge the gap between the boy and himself, he thought of Yim and was inspired. “Did you ever eat a wood grub?”

Froan shifted his eyes to Honus, clearly surprised by the question. “They were Mam’s favorite treat.” Froan smiled sadly at the memory. “She’d get so excited when she found some. Then we’d have a little feast.”

“You liked them, too?”