The Shadowy Path - 15. Chapter 15

"People of Paidos! The minions of Monteilon the Exploiter are still at large. Do not help the oppressor, but expose the enemies of the people who are hiding. Report saboteurs and imperialists directly to the provisional government. The best tips will be rewarded!"

- Bulletin of the Shadow Cross in Paidos Courier, on 6th of Withies month 1592

* * *

Bartos
Paidos, Andiol Empire

"Breakfast! Thanks, mate!" Darren was delighted when Bartos, a little embarrassed, handed him a paper bag. Inside were a couple of cheese sandwiches and some ham. Nothing fancy, but Darren started to eat eagerly.

Bartos did not ask why Darren had not eaten at home. It was better to keep quiet and pretend that bringing a breakfast bag to a friend was perfectly normal.

Although there were no others at the rail-carriage stop, Bartos shifted his weight restlessly on his foot. "Have you heard anything from Franz?" he asked after looking around. These days it seemed that even the cobblestones in the street were eavesdropping for the shadow walkers.

Darren, munching on his bread, flashed his dimpled smile again. "Yeah, he finally got himself a girlfriend. I mean, a fury hound bitch. Franz galloped off on it to escape the shadow sentries. I heard he's going to start a kennel with his fiancée." When Bartos did not laugh, the curly-haired boy hastily suggested: "Shall we go to Landez's to find out?"

On the way to Franz's house, Darren twisted a piece of string he had found somewhere, kicked every pebble he came across on the street and grinned cheerfully at the beautiful daughter of the weaver. Even when he was worried, Darren expressed himself so differently from Bartos, who had become even more silent and pensive since Franz got arrested. First Josel, then Franz - suddenly their group of friends was scattered to who knows where.

It was all the fault of the Shadow Cross! What the shadow walkers had done to the Bartos' family was unforgivable. His father, a reputable senior official of the emperor, had been turned into a miserable outlaw, and now the shadow walkers were doing everything they could to extort the Rigailon family fortune for the Shadow Cross.

Luckily, Mom and little sisters had been sent to Grandfather's house in the village of Barkhill, three days' drive north of Paidos. Bartos and Tobeias, the family's faithful servant, were the only ones left in the house. The valuables that Mom had not managed to take with her had already been carried to the coffins of the Shadow Cross.

The day before yesterday, the shadow sentries had burst in at dinner time and stolen Grandmother's silverware and Dad's gold table clock. When Tobeias had tried to stop them, the shadow sentries had beaten him.

Bartos knew that even his own safety was not guaranteed in Paidos these days. Yet he had firmly refused to go with his mother and sisters. It was his duty to look after the house until his father gave further instructions. Bartos waited for his father and knew he would come. Berron Rigailon would never abandon his family.

Neither did Ginnavere Landez. Franz's mother was furious when she heard that her son had disappeared on his way to see Jolanda. The tall, powerfully built woman had marched straight to Shadow Cross headquarters, despite Bartos and Darren's objections, and demanded to see Isendar Vargan or Nadaila Tomsto. The shadow sentries had roughly pushed Mrs Landez down the stairs, spraining her ankle. She had received no information about her son.

After Franz's disappearance, Bartos and Darren had of course done everything they could to find out about their friend's fate. They had searched half the town before finally finding Giesela.

Darren had gotten all steamed up, threatening her with who knows what. After endless pressing, she had finally revealed that Jolanda was in fact Isendar Vargan's daughter, and that was probably the reason why Franz was now in possession of the Shadow Cross.

Untypically of him, Bartos had cursed heavily and felt a sudden and unwise urge to reach for Giesela's throat. The pig-nosed girl had deceived them all, but she also had the power to put Bartos and Darren in the same place as Franz. Besides, getting Franz out of the hands of the Shadow Cross was the most important thing. So Bartos hurried his steps, hoping that Franz's mother would know something new about her son.

* * *

Bartos and Darren only had to enter Landez's General Store to realise that something was wrong. The store looked as if it had been shaken by a thunderstorm, the goods were strewn in messy heaps on the floor, and the shelves, always so neat and tidy, were now in disarray.

"What's happened here?" Darren asked with a worried frown. At the same moment, Ginnavere Landez limped from the back room into the main hall. She carried Franz's little sister Minai in her arms.

In addition to her remarkable height, Franz's mother bore other similarities to her son. Ginnavere Landez's face was adorned with a large eagle nose, her high forehead made her look intelligent and her hair was almost coal black in its darkness. But now Franz's mother lacked the vigour and determination that Bartos was used to seeing in her. On the contrary, Mrs Landez looked as if she had just cried.

Before Bartos could form a question, Darren was already ahead of him. "Has something happened to Franz?" In an instant, all joy had vanished from Darren and there was only concern in his voice.

Bartos swallowed, the fear of something terrible gripping him.

Mrs Landez's strong voice cracked as she answered. "He...he's gone, escaped from prison. The shadow sentries were in here, making threats and breaking things. They said I hid the boy somewhere, but I don't know where he is." Franz's mother clutched the little girl tighter in her arms and looked at Bartos and Darren with panic in her eyes.

"Franz is missing?" Bartos said, dumbfounded.

Darren continued quickly: "He's not missing, he's escaped - there's a big difference. I know Franz, he's safe for sure".

These words did not seem to be much comfort to Franz's mother. "Now the entire Shadow Cross is after him. The men who came here said that the runaways would be killed without mercy."

Little Minai began to cry. Probably frightened by the tone of her mother's voice, the girl hardly understood the meaning of the words.

Mrs Landez's bewailing did not leave Darren speechless. "You can't catch Franz. The guy's as slippery as an eel - in a good way," he said, smiling. "He won't be caught by any of those wretched shadow dogs, and I'd stake my fortune on it."

What fortune? Darren was as poor as a beggar, Bartos knew, but he let his chatty friend go on.

"The shadow sentries have no idea where Franz is. Otherwise they wouldn't have come here," Darren explained. "Since there's been no word from him, he's safe. Isendar Vargan is left to bite his long nails, and Franz is laughing sweetly somewhere far away from here. Believe me!"

Ginnavere Landez looked unsure. "You talk a lot, Darren. They really haven't found him. But where could my son have gone?"

"Franz knows the hiding places. If anyone's clever, it's him," Darren said, nodding reassuringly.

After some more persuasion, Darren finally convinced Franz's mother that her son was safe and that it would be much better if he did not return home until Paidos had been recaptured from the Shadow Cross. In the end, Mrs Landez was so pleased with the boys' visit that she showered them with sweets and gave them both a squeeze on the doorstep.

Bartos thought that his own contribution to reassuring Franz's mother was insignificant. After all, Darren had done everything. Bartos himself would not have been capable of a similar performance. He was too slow and clumsy to know how to deal with other people.

That's what his father had once said: "You won't make a great popular leader, son, but you'll make a wise advisor to the leader."

Bartos was not sure if he would be up for that either. Maybe Dad was just trying to comfort him. After all, Berron Rigailon was a good man. Kind-hearted and wise, one of the most respected men in Paidos, or so Bartos had heard. One day, Bartos would want to be like that - a remarkable man, respected by all for his wisdom.

But he never really thought he would rise to such a position. Bartos had inherited his father's dark features and sturdy frame, but not his character and skills.

He was never lucky with girls either. When Bartos tried to approach the fairer sex, he was completely frozen. All he could do was stammer stupidly. With Elenda, things had gone nowhere either, even though he had looked at her longingly for months.

Darren was quite different, also when it came to charming girls. Bartos knew of no one else his age who was as popular with the ladies. Darren always had a girlfriend, sometimes two at the same time, and there was almost a queue of new admirers.

Sometimes he talked about things he had done with girls - not bragging, but certainly knowing that Bartos still had his virginity. Then, for a while, Bartos had secretly hated his friend.

Darren was pleasant-looking, much more handsome than Bartos himself, but that did not explain everything. In his good-humoured insouciance, Darren was just so charming that you could not help but like him. He knew how to smile at the right moment and, above all, he knew how to talk. That's the kind of boy girls liked, not a bore like Bartos.

He glanced sideways at the boy strolling beside him. Darren whistled and tossed his cap in the air. Yet Bartos knew there was something else beneath all that nonchalance: The real Darren Temjanion was far more sensitive and vulnerable than the easy-going charmer he liked to appear to others, even his friends.

Bartos remembered a little curly-haired boy who had run crying into the street, when his parents went on a drunken rampage. He also remembered the bruises on little Darren's skinny body and the boy's insane appetite every time he went to school for lunch.

Even then, Darren had been a master of deception. He had joked and amused his mates with a smile on his face, even when he had been beaten up by his drunken father the night before. If anyone tried to get to the truth, Darren would get angry or give the silent treatment.

Bartos had already got to know Josel and Franz before he started school. As if by unspoken agreement, they had accepted Darren as the fourth member of their group of friends in the first year of school. This was partly because Darren was fun to be around, but also out of pity, which the boy did not want.

It had felt important to do more, even if Darren had not wanted any help. They must have been ten years old when Bartos brought up his friend's situation with his influential father. Chancellor Berron Rigailon had listened quietly and finally promised to take care of the matter.

Bartos did not know what his father had done, but it had helped. Since then, Darren's ribs were no longer bruised and his clothes were cleaner and less torn than before. Darren's mother and father drank as before, but the boy and his sister, who was a few years older, were a little better.

If Darren had any inkling of Bartos' father's involvement, he had never said so out loud. Bartos himself could not have had more respect for his father. It was a terrible injustice that the good man had been driven from office and from the hometown he loved. As much as Bartos respected his father, he hated the Shadow Cross.

* * *

A couple of days after visiting Franz's mother, Bartos invited Darren to stay over night. This was nothing unusual, as Darren sometimes stayed at the Rigailons' big house when his parents' drinking got worse than usual.

But now Bartos had a very different reason for asking his friend to join him. He did not feel safe at home.

The atmosphere in Paidos had become tense. The townspeople were on their guard, suspecting each other of being the henchmen of the Shadow Cross. No one dared to say a word about the Shadow Cross, even though the mistreatments were becoming more blatant.

People were ruthlessly beaten, homes looted, and dozens of residents suspected of being supporters of the governor were imprisoned by the shadow sentries. Numerous imperial-minded officials and City Guard officers were reportedly executed after summary trials. Bartos knew that his father would have been among them had he not fled the town.

It was also rumoured that governor Monteilon had escaped from the Shadow Cross. This delighted Bartos. As long as Dareis Monteilon stayed alive, the people of Paidos would have someone to rely on in their resistance. Together, they could defeat the shadow walkers and reclaim their hometown. But where was Monteilon and his liberation force?

As the son of Berron Rigailon, Bartos knew that sooner or later he would have to face the Shadow Cross. A nearby baker named Mommes had been killed a few nights earlier, though he was not known to have had any animosity with the Shadow Cross. So anyone could have been a victim.

Bartos had a hunch that something bad was about to happen. That's why he had ordered the servants to leave town. Loyal Tobeias would have liked to stay and protect the house, but Bartos could not allow him to risk his life defending the Rigailon family's property. It was Bartos' responsibility, now that his father was gone.

Unfortunately, he had quickly realised that he was not brave enough to live in the house alone. Selfishly, he had put Darren in danger by asking him to be his protector. Bartos felt he was nothing more than a big flathead and an even bigger coward.

* * *

They had settled down for the night as soon as it was dark. Darren had tried to make conversation, but Bartos' replies had been nothing more than short grunts. Eventually, the curlyhead had grown tired of his friend's silence. With his bed on the couch, he had turned his back on Bartos. It was not long before the steady breathing could be heard coming from Darren's direction.

Bartos wished he could have fallen as fast asleep. Thoughts swirled in his head; sleep did not come until midnight.

It was pitch black when Bartos awoke. A strange feeling overcame him. As if he had heard something. He listened - it could not have been Darren. The calm breathing came from across the room. Otherwise, it was quiet. Bartos closed his eyes, trying to reach for the dream he had been snatched from.

Just then, the sound came again, muffled but still clearly audible. It was like a steady thump, coming from somewhere downstairs. A cold shiver ran down Bartos' spine and his palms were instantly wet with sweat. Was someone in the house? A shadow sentry? Bartos was no longer sleepy. He was terrified.

When the bang sounded again, Bartos made up his mind and got out of bed without a sound. He took a few steps to Darren's couch and shook him awake.

"Wh-what?" Darren mumbled, still half-asleep. Bartos whispered for him to be quiet and to prick up his ears. Although Bartos could not see his friend's face in the darkness, Darren's small gasp told him he had heard the same.

"Let's go and see what it is," Darren suggested after the thumping had stopped for a moment.

Bartos swallowed. Did Darren not realise the danger? If the Shadow Cross had infiltrated the house, they might be slaughtered like the baker.

"Are you sure?" he asked, ashamed of the fearful tone in his voice.

"I'd rather go and see what it is myself than wait for it to get here," Darren reasoned, springing out of bed. "I bet it's just a twig tapping on a windowsill," he added, as he opened the bedroom door.

Bartos followed his friend, hating his own cowardice.

The stairs leading down were cold under bare feet, but for the first time Bartos was grateful that they were made of stone and not wood. There was not a creak as the two friends, dressed only in their underwear, descended the stairs to the ground floor of the Rigailons' house.

By now the banging had stopped and the house was quiet. Bartos tried to ignore his pounding heart. Despite his light clothing, sweat soaked his armpits and back.

They arrived at a small hall with access to three directions. Each entrance leading to a different part of the house looked equally menacing to Bartos. He nodded to Darren and quickly slipped past the other two open doorways into the hallway. The sound had been like someone knocking on the door.

With Darren securing his back, Bartos crept to the front door. There was no sound from behind it. With shaking hands, he lifted the leather flap covering the peephole and peered out. Behind the glass was the porch, lit by an outdoor lamp. It was deserted.

"Open the door slightly," Darren whispered, and Bartos had no choice but to turn the key sticking out of the lock.

All he had to do was twist the knob and open the door. Bartos wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt and inhaled an extra lungful of air. Then he opened the door.

The cool night air streamed into the hallway. The pale light from the outdoor lamp was blinding. For a moment, Bartos was sure that a shadow sentry, or something worse, would leap from the darkness behind the stairs to slit their throats. A shudder of fear ran through his body and for a fleeting moment he thought he was going to die.

But Darren's laconic statement, "no one", brought Bartos back from the brink of horror to the present.

"No, indeed," he replied with an audible gulp. His eyes wandered around the darkness surrounding the illuminated stairs. There was no one. Or if there was, whoever was lurking in the night did not want to be seen.

Bartos was cold and muttered hurriedly: "Let's go inside."

He was already thinking of going back to bed when Darren spoke: "If that wasn't a knock at the door, what was it?"

Anxiety gripped Bartos again and he felt his palms sweat. "We-we'll have to check downstairs, I suppose," he replied.

Now it was Darren's turn to lead the way. The small lounge to the right of the stairwell was completely empty. At least Bartos found a candle there, which he lit by scratching a match. The miserable flame did not provide much light, but at least it made him feel a little safer.

Darren, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the darkness. The nimble-footed boy tiptoed through the Rigailon house with a quiet fearlessness that made lumbering Bartos feel even clumsier.

The library behind the social room was also empty of intruders. The massive bookshelves with their books looked menacing in the dim light, but they did not hide anything out of the ordinary.

Bartos began to get the feeling that a trip downstairs was pointless. Perhaps it had indeed been a twig tapping on a window, or a drunkard staggering home from the alehouse and knocking at the door. But Bartos could not remember a single tree growing right next to the house, and there were no taverns in the vicinity. The thought sent another uncomfortable shiver down his spine, and Bartos pulled the legs of his underpants down over his freezing thighs. He really wanted to get back to his warm bed.

From the library they went downstairs to the main hall. They only had to enter the room to realise that something was very wrong. The door to the backyard veranda was ajar and the white window curtains fluttered ghostly. Bartos could not get a word out of his mouth, but he saw the same thing that Darren was saying out loud: "The window glass...it's broken."

The door was wide open, its glass window shattered. The glass fragments on the floor were filtered by moonlight.

Not just broken. Smashed, Bartos thought, feeling an irresistible urge to turn and run upstairs to hide under the covers.

Then something rustled in the corner of the room and Bartos nearly dropped his candle.

"What's that!" Darren exclaimed, his voice breaking.

Bartos could only manage a gurgle from his throat. His body trembled as he watched a dark figure emerge from the far corner of the hall. Darren yelped miserably but bravely raised his fists in a defensive stance.

The figure was so close now that Bartos could see it better. Much more willingly, he would have closed his eyes. The stranger was of medium height and dressed in black. His head was covered by a hood that hid his face. Bartos sensed that the intruder was not a shadow sentry, but something else, something worse. There were always many shadow sentries, and they came through the front door with a loud bang, not sneaking in the back.

Then the stranger's hand, covered by a leather glove, reached for the hood. When he pulled it off his head in agonisingly slow motion, Bartos almost begged that a company of Shadow Cross commandos had stormed in instead of the stranger.

The hood fell away and Bartos finally regained his voice. A baby-like squeal escaped his throat and Darren's groan did not sound much more manly. Darren, who had been standing defiantly with his fists clenched, now stared at the stranger in front of him with terror on his face. Bartos' legs were weak and the stearine dripping from the wavering candle burned the back of his hand.

"I came in because no one would open the door for me," the visitor said in an old man's voice.

All Bartos could do was stare at the man's face, too well lit by the moon's glow. It was the most gruesome mug he could remember seeing in his entire life. The man had no lips. His mouth was nothing but a scarred opening, leaving his gums and teeth exposed for eternal grimace.

Other parts of the face were covered by a cruel-looking scar tissue, but the worst part, apart from the mouth, were the eyes. Their yellowish whites and relentless gaze pinned Bartos in place. There was no escape, the trembling legs would not obey. He had to stare at that ghastly face.

Then the battered mouth formed words again. Although Bartos felt his consciousness blur with sheer terror, he heard the man speak.

"Bartos Rigailon," the man squeaked. "I have come to fetch you."

That's when Bartos' legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees on the wooden floor of the hall. The candle that had been burning in his hand rolled down to his feet and was extinguished in an instant.

* * *