The Treacherous Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Further Information

  Author’s Note

  COPYRIGHT

  The Treacherous Path

  David J. Normoyle

  He did the impossible.

  Bowe Bellanger broke all the rules in surviving The Narrowing Path. The victory was short-lived.

  Three years of trying to return the Bellanger family to its former glory comes to nothing when one of the other families attacks, forcing Bowe to flee the city. At the same time, powerful forces threaten war and rebellion throughout Arcandis, and Bowe has to take advantage of the upheaval or be overwhelmed by it.

  The second book in The Narrowing Path Series takes Bowe on a harrowing journey where he'll face a terrible decision that will decide not just his future, but the future of the entire society.

  ~

  Join the author’s mailing list and get the prequel to The Narrowing Path, plus prequels to two other great series: http://davidjnormoyle.com/readers-list/

  Chapter 1

  Day 4

  The Fool’s Hope, it was called. Bowe hadn’t figured out if Sorrin had changed the name after he bought it or deliberately searched out a ship with a name that expressed what he thought of this venture. As if all his harping on about it hadn’t already made his objections crystal clear.

  Bowe and Sorrin stood on the docks with Bellanger marshals on either side holding up umbrellas for them. The rain fell in sheets; on the ground streams of water were flowing over and around their feet and cascading into the sea. Bowe’s shoes were soaked through, but at least the umbrellas kept the rest of himself and Sorrin dry, though water streamed down the noses and chins of the marshals holding them.

  If the ship succeeded on its first trading mission, Bowe would change its name. Perhaps Bellanger’s Hope would be better. Beside the other ships in harbor, it looked rather unimpressive. With just a single sail, it was much smaller than the vessels on either side. A small trading ship was all Bowe could afford; even managing to scrape together enough funds for that was an achievement.

  It wasn’t nearly enough, of course. Three years had passed since the Infernam and this was Bowe’s biggest financial venture. He hoped several runs could return the cost of the ship and after that it’d start making profits. On this trip, they were shipping foodstuffs to Urni—a safe but profitable venture.

  Beside him, Sorrin scowled down at the ship. “This is a bad idea.”

  “So you’ve told me many times. It’s done now, let’s go.” The ship had drifted away from the docks, and they were beginning to unfurl the mainsail. Sailors buzzed about the deck and climbed in the rigging. It was foolish of Bowe to even come out here and stand in the rain to watch it leave harbor. But it seemed more real to actually see it set sail. When planning, he tended to see his business decisions like moves on a Harmony board.

  “Let’s go.” He led the way back toward the waiting rickshaw. The marshals walked alongside, keeping the rain from his head, but that did nothing to save his feet from having to trudge through mud. He climbed into the rickshaw and pulled the opening closed behind him to keep out the rain. Sorrin entered from the other side.

  “These shoes are probably ruined,” Bowe complained, looking down at the sodden dirty leathers. “They’re new.”

  At an order from the marshals, the rickshaw pullers lurched the carriage into motion.

  “This is risky, Bowe,” Sorrin said. “The Lessards won’t be too happy to see you wrestling into their territory. They are the traders.”

  “We’ve been over this,” Bowe said. “I have to do something. We can’t just tread water and hope. Anything I do will upset one of the families. How am I to carve out an empire for the Bellangers before the next Infernam without taking a few risks and treading on some toes?” It had taken Bowe and the rest of his ascor a lot of hard work to create as much as they had. And it was an anthill beside the mountain of power that each of the other families controlled. If it had taken them three years just to create the anthill, what hope was there of turning the anthill into the mountain over the next three? But that was what had to be done, or no one in the family would have places in the Refuge.

  “It’s just too much to risk on one venture.”

  “There’s no point thinking small. Slow and steady growth isn’t going to get it done. When the chances are small, the risks must be big.”

  Sorrin grumbled to himself but didn’t reply. They were rehashing an old argument. The ship had sailed, it was too late to change course. Bowe peeked out the front of the rickshaw as they approached Bellanger Mansion. It always perked him up to see the family home. When he’d first been here it had been fading away, left to the spiders and the dust. Now it was fully restored.

  When they stopped and Bowe pulled down the opening, he saw another rickshaw parked outside and scowled at it. Which of the ascor would visit him in this rainstorm? It wasn’t likely to be good news.

  Sorrin frowned at the rickshaw. “We should never have bought that ship.”

  “Probably not related,” Bowe said, even though he thought the opposite.

  One of the marshals approached Bowe, holding up an umbrella. His azure-mist-colored uniform looked a washed-out white drenched in water.

  “Who’s decided to visit us, Toose?” Bowe asked.

  “Sorry, sir,” Toose said. “He just barged in and announced he’d wait in the ballroom. Didn’t know how to stop him.”

  “Who?” Bowe asked.

  “Kirande.”

  “Thanks.” Bowe touched Toose’s shoulder. “You did the right thing letting him through.”

  “This isn’t good.” Sorrin swung out of the rickshaw without waiting for an umbrella and limped across the courtyard into the main door, making a splash every time he planted his good leg.

  Bowe stepped out of the rickshaw and leaned under Toose’s umbrella, wondering what Kirande could want. Eolnar had asked for a meeting several days ago, but wasn’t due until the afternoon. Bowe had initially hoped that the rickshaw was just the Lessard ascor coming early. Kirande turning up unannounced like this—it wasn’t good.

  Inside, Bowe took his time changing into dry clothes. He asked one of the servant girls if his shoes could be fixed up and she gave him a scared look and curtsy and practically ran out of the room, holding the shoes at arm’s length. Bowe decided to take that as a no.

  When he was ready, he walked to the ballroom and hesitantly reached for the door handle. He stopped himself; this wasn’t the time to be hesitant or display any signs of worry. This was his kingdom and he would be assured and confident in front of the Grenier ascor. It had been Kirande himself who had first taught Bowe the importance of appearances. Bowe straightened his back and lifted his chin, then turned the handle, flung open the door, entered, and charged down the center of the ballroom.

  Halfway down, he stopped dead. Kirande was sitting in his throne, smiling down at him. Bowe cursed himself for showing his
surprise. “Why are you sitting there?”

  Kirande looked down and pretended to be surprised at where he found himself. “Is this your throne? Why, I didn’t even realize.” He didn’t move to get up.

  “What do you want?” Bowe asked. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Trying to eject Kirande would just make him appear weak. Best to pretend it meant nothing. Sorrin was standing off to the side, throwing scowls at Kirande whenever the Grenier ascor looked away.

  “Now that I’m sitting here, though, I find that I like it,” Kirande said. “Rather comfortable. Suits me.”

  “We’ve been over this.” Both Eolnar and Kirande had been angling to take over the Bellanger family since the Infernam ended. Both had helped him go from being a Green to becoming the leader of the Bellanger family. But now they both wanted that role. Kirande would bring the support of the Grenier family, and Eolnar would bring the support of the Lessard family.

  Kirande stood, towering over Bowe. He was long-limbed and skinny with a hatchet nose. “My patience is growing thin.” He wasn’t smiling now. He took a long step forward, placing himself right in front of Bowe and staring down at him. Bowe didn’t want to step back, so he was forced to look directly up the man’s nose. He felt slightly ill.

  “As you know,” Kirande continued, “the Grenier family was not particularly happy about the little trick you played to allow you and your friends to survive the Path. They haven’t moved against you because of me. I’ve convinced them that a Bellanger family with a strong Grenier influence can be an asset for Arcandis.”

  “And I appreciate your help,” Bowe said. Kirande wanted to bring across other recently promoted Grenier ascor and use the Bellanger family as Grenier’s second family.

  Kirande loomed over Bowe, edging forward. Bowe didn’t want to retreat, so instead he squirmed around the side of Kirande and threw himself onto the throne.

  Kirande snorted, turning around. “Looking for a game of hide-and-seek, young Bellanger?”

  “Just tell me why you’re here,” Bowe said. “I know you want to be the leader of the Bellangers, but that position is taken.”

  “I have come to give you one last chance,” Kirande said. “The ultimatum is a blunt instrument, not normally a strong component of the subtle swirls of the ascorim, but sometimes it’s called for.”

  “What’s brought this urgency on?” Bowe asked. Things were at a delicate balance right now and the last thing he needed was a blunt instrument crashing down.

  “You’re spreading your wings—you just sent out a trading ship. I have to assume that means you’re leaning toward an alliance with the Lessards and away from one with me.”

  “Not at all.” Bowe deliberately didn’t look at Sorrin. “The trading ship is just one of the ways that the Bellangers are expanding our interests. We have a long way to go to gain our places in the Refuge when the time comes.”

  Kirande inexplicably started to laugh.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “You still think you can do it all by yourself. I remember how naive you were when we first met in my carriage outside that ball. And in some ways, you’ve come so far.” Kirande raised his arms to indicate the ballroom. Banners displaying the Bellanger azure sun lined the wall. “In others, you are just as green.” Kirande shook his head, turned, and began to leave.

  “Wait. What about the ultimatum?”

  Kirande turned around. “Oh yes, that. You know Dulnato, right? Well, you have—” He stopped suddenly. “Wait, I’ve a better idea. I’ll let you figure out the deadline and what it means if you miss it yourself. It should be obvious, I don’t have to spell it out to you.” He turned and left.

  “Wait, you can’t just...” Bowe allowed his words to trail off. Kirande could and had just done it. He’d given Bowe an ultimatum but not specified how long Bowe had or what the consequences would be. Bowe allowed his face to sink into his hand. “We shouldn’t have launched The Fool’s Hope, should we?”

  “No,” Sorrin said. Bowe was glad that Sorrin didn’t try to rub it in.

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “The Greniers have always held a grudge against you, none more so than Dulnato. Up until now, Kirande has held them off. The Greniers wouldn’t move against you while they thought they had a chance of having one of their own leading the Bellanger family. Obviously Kirande has decided they’ve waited long enough and plans to unleash Dulnato unless you appoint him as leader. I’m not sure how long we have. I’ll send some men to investigate further and see if we can figure out when Dulnato plans to move.”

  Bowe rubbed his palms against his temples. “Well, there’s one good thing. I’m dreading Eolnar’s visit a lot less now. It can’t go any worse than that. We’ll decide what to do about Kirande afterward.”

  * * *

  Bowe sat back and rubbed the hand rests of the throne as Eolnar approached. At least this time Bowe had the advantage of position. Bowe hadn’t grown that much in the last three years, so he’d had a platform installed below the throne to raise it up. Eolnar wasn’t as big or imposing as Kirande either, with a small face and short, curly hair. The Lessard family was led by Eolnar’s brother, Sorani, and Eolnar didn’t want to either usurp his brother or remain as second to him. Both brothers wanted a new family for Eolnar.

  “Have you received any word from your trading boat?” Eolnar asked as he came to a stop before the throne.

  “My ship? No, why should I? It just departed.” Bowe was surprised that Eolnar got straight to business. He tended to start with small talk and subtle hints.

  “It might have been captured by pirates.”

  “How can you know that? It just launched; it probably isn’t even out of sight,” Bowe said.

  “You know any way to bring it back before it hits the open seas?” Eolnar asked.

  Bowe shook his head.

  “Well, then. Pirates, I’m afraid.”

  “But why? Why would you do this to me?” The Lessards had clearly arranged for Bowe’s ship to be attacked once it reached the open seas.

  Eolnar shrugged. “You brought it on yourself. I offered you an alliance.”

  “You offered to take over control of the Bellanger family. My family.” Bowe stood up.

  “You refuse my alliance and instead try to maneuver into Lessard territory by starting your own shipping empire.”

  “It was just one ship,” Bowe protested.

  “Soon to be one shipwreck,” Eolnar said, and strode out.

  “Wait, what can I do to make this right?” Bowe called after him.

  “Too late to do anything for your ship. If you decide to come to your senses and make me Bellanger leader, perhaps your next venture won’t be so pitiful. This is the last time I’ll offer, though. There’s only three years to the Infernam and you’ve made no progress. Even now, joining you is a huge risk. But with Lessard support there might be a chance. Without that, being a member of the Bellanger family could be a death sentence.”

  He left.

  “Might be it’s already a death sentence,” Sorrin said as Bowe slumped against the backrest of his throne.

  Around them, the emblems and banners of the Bellanger family lined the walls of the ballroom, but it was all a lie. They’d created the lie to save themselves from the Infernam, surrounded themselves with the trappings of the great house. And the other Guardians had gone along with it. They wanted the return of the fourth family. But a great family wasn’t an assortment of emblems and banners. They needed the power and wealth and influence. And in three years Bowe had made very little progress toward gaining any of that.

  “We need to call a family meeting,” Bowe declared.

  Sorrin frowned. “What’s a family meeting?”

  Bowe just looked at him. “It’s obvious, no? A meeting between all the Bellanger ascor.”

  “I understand the idea in principle,” Sorrin said. “But this after three years of you doing whatever you felt best without consulting us. Does that mean you intend
to listen to what the rest of us have to say?”

  Bowe pulled a cushion out from under him and threw it at Sorrin, but Sorrin ducked and it flew over his head. “Just arrange the meeting.”

  “Still most accepting of criticism.” Sorrin went to pick up the cushion. “As for the meeting, I haven’t seen Xarcon in months. Don’t know what he’s getting up to these days, but he has distanced himself from us more and more.”

  “Get the word out as best you can,” Bowe said. “Let’s meet tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 2

  Day 5

  Darkness surrounded him. Bowe took deep breaths of the thick air, but he couldn’t suck in enough to satisfy his lungs. He felt crowded, hundreds were pushing in on top of him from all sides, but he couldn’t make out clearly whom they were. He pushed his way through the shadowy crowd. Dark hands reached out to grab him, and he quickened his pace. He saw what looked like a doorway, a square of space a shade lighter than the rest of the darkness. The hands began to pull at him with more insistence and he stumbled and fell. Hands plucked at his clothes and ran through his hair. Bowe crawled forward toward the doorway, closing his eyes as fingers clawed at his face, pulling him back. He reached for the doorway.

  And then he was out. He was still on his hands and knees but the sensation of figures around him disappeared. He opened his eyes. He could see a bit more now, though it was still dark. The air still clogged his lungs but there was only one other person near him. The person was lying face-down a few paces ahead. Bowe didn’t want to go near them, but couldn’t stop himself. His body crawled forward and one of his arms reached out. His hand touched the shoulder of the other figure, and suddenly the person was face-up rather than face-down. Their skin was blackened and peeling, and the hair had been burned off of their skull. Pieces of white bone showed beneath the burnt flesh.

  Iyra’s lips opened as she spoke, showing a row of strangely untouched teeth. “You killed me,” she said.

  Bowe screamed and sat up in the bed. Breaths shuddered through his body and his hands quivered. A dream. Almost every night for the last three years he’d had these nightmares and he still hadn’t figured out that they weren’t real. Every time the terror was the same. Every time he woke up soaked in sweat with his pulse pounding. Why couldn’t he learn that it wasn’t real?