The Pass of Rhomas

King Bolvick said it was because of Maya’s father, but Maya could see through the lie as easily as she saw through her cat’s tricks. She scrubbed away at her chores, busy and patient, holding her breath often so she would not cry.

Thus she’d worked, ever since the Battle of Gremwaith when Bolvick lost his son to Maya’s father in the battle. It was only two days later that Maya was seized by iron-cruel hands, thrown roughly over Bolvick’s horse, and torn away from the golden house she had grown up in.

How her poor parents must have wept when they realized she was gone, her parents and her siblings and her friends. How they must have raged when they found it was too late to reclaim her. As Bolvick fled from his lost battle with his army, he also bore Maya swiftly across the kingdom of Dorviar and through the treacherous Pass of Rhomas.

“Dorag took a child from me,” Bolvick had snarled, his eyes snapping with hatred. “It’s only fair I return the favor, girl.” That treacherous mountain passage haunted Maya’s dreams and her waking moments. The cold had bitten into her. She’d slept on the snowy ground, shivering. Bolvick paid her no attention, no care. She was nothing to him, nothing but an object of revenge. He did not care if she suffered from the frost.

Her only comfort was a stray kitten who had followed the army in hopes of food. Maya cuddled its warm, fluffy body for the scant warmth it gave, and named him Muff because she used him like one.

And then there was Dame Enid. Enid kept a small cottage halfway through the Pass of Rhomas. Her husband and child had perished the year before to a blizzard, and no sooner did she see the child suffering through the bleak, cold mountains, then she quickly piled blankets on her and even left her cottage to follow the army, just to ensure Maya would be alright.

Maya clung to Dame Enid and poured her woes into that sympathetic heart, which beat in tune to the memory of Maya’s mother. Enid’s old face wrinkled as she empathized with the child.

“I’ll see you home,” she whispered. Then she boldly went to Bolvick. Unfortunately she could not convince Bolvick to release the girl, but the upshot of that conversation became Maya’s new life.

Enid convinced Bolvick that servitude was more fitting a vengeance than imprisonment, determined that Maya would not rot away in a cell surrounded by guards. Bolvick actually was convinced. He put Maya under the vigilance of a thin-lipped woman in a miniscule village not far from his castle.

The locals were cruel and harsh to the strange girl, even as their king had been. Captives were ill-treated anyway, and mud pelted Maya in a constant stream. The mistress under which she served must have been told to treat her badly. Food was late in coming. Wages never came at all. Sleep was a precious commodity. Tears were scorned; suffering was shoved into the closet. But through it all, Enid and Muff the cat stayed the entire time. They were the only kind creatures Maya encountered.

Each night, when the hard toil was finally over, Maya would cuddle up by the fire at Enid’s house with Muff. Her cheek pressed into his soft white fur, and the scant warmth felt like a luxury after a day spent in the frigid temperatures. The old woman would wash her dirty face and comb her tangled hair, telling her stories and trying to take her mind off of the suffering that awaited for the next day.

“Enid,” asked Maya one night, when she was fifteen years old. “How long do you think Bolvick will keep me here?”

Enid sighed, her mouth full of pins. She took some out to fix in the braids and ribbons she was putting in Maya’s hair, and considered.

“Forever. We’d have to escape to leave,” she sighed.

“Oh! Could we?”

“Hard to say, lassie. I’ve been thinking of it for a time now.”

“Me too!”

“Then you know it’s a bit scary of a thought. And if we get caught, I don’t think Bolvick will be nearly as kind as he is now.” Enid sourly pulled more pins out of her mouth, and pinned Maya’s tresses into an elegant, showy braid.

“There’s two ways out, the way I see it. There’s the trade ships. They go South down the river, but that river’s watched—watched like hawks! The only other way out is the Pass of Rhomas. That way ain’t watched, but it’s mighty unpleasant.”

Maya shivered and hugged Muff closer, and did not ask again. The memory of the cold terror of those days, along with Bolvick’s wrath, was enough to quelch her desires for freedom and home for some years. Yet as she grew older and matured, she became curious. She pondered escape often, her tired eyes searching in the direction of the Pass of Rhomas, wondering, weighing the risks, considering the idea.

It was the third day of spring when the rider came. Maya was too busy to notice at first, as she was hard at work digging up a stump in a field. It was a rare moment of silence in the cold village, for the supervisor had fallen asleep and the locals had retreated from the streets for the comfort of fire. Maya cherished the quiet, and set her thin frame to pulling the knotty roots out of the ground.

“You’re Maya Gelbris, aren’t you?” asked a quiet voice. Maya had not heard her full name in years. She stared up at the golden-haired rider, her face whiter than dust. The man quietly dismounted and glanced around.

“I don’t want to frighten you,” he said hesitantly. Maya shook her head wordlessly and reached for the shovel she’d dropped.

“Allow me.” The man took the tool, and started digging up the stump for her. Maya thanked him gratefully, and the man shook his head sadly. “It’s the least I can do … I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? Of what?”

“Bolvick’s son … the one your father killed? He died on the sixth day of spring, when he was twenty-three. That day is approaching, and you’re the same age. My uncle is precise in his vengeance.”

Maya’s face went even whiter. “He’s your … then why tell me this?”

“Don’t suggest you’ve never thought of escaping,” said the prince. “If you have anything close to a plan, now is the time to go for it. I tried to talk my uncle out of his purpose, but he has an iron will.”

Maya thought deeply, looking at the Pass of Rhomas. She said it aloud, almost to herself.

“I’ll go tonight.”

“The river or the pass?” the prince asked, dragging the stump out of the ground.

“The pass.”

“Then I’ll make sure no one is around.” The prince handed her the shovel as the supervisor stirred, and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

“Thank you,” Maya whispered. Tears came to her eyes. He smiled thinly, mounted his horse, and rode away. Maya watched him go until he was a speck on the horizon. She sobbed uncontrollably. He was the only human besides Enid who had shown any compassion for her.

Maya finished her chores for the day and then ran to Enid’s home as quickly as her weary feet could take her. The sun was setting when she rushed into the cottage and hurriedly explained what was happening. The old woman sat still at her knitting, listening. Then she bolted to her feet and rushed around in a frenzy of energy, stuffing a bag full of food, blankets, and other useful things. Maya frantically stuffed another bag, and scooped her cat up.

“How long is the journey?” she asked Enid.

“It should take us a few weeks.”

“You don’t have to come …” Enid threw her a sharp glance that choked the words out of Maya’s throat. Then they ran out into the night, hand in hand. The mountains loomed ahead.

As the prince had promised, the guards in the village were largely out of the way. How he’d managed it, Maya did not know. She and Enid went on as quickly as they could. They cleared the village in just a couple hours. Maya’s heart beat rapidly as the mountains, and the dreaded pass, appeared.

The cold swept in faster than Bolvick had kidnapped her. Ice grew on all the sharp stones; frost filled the air. Maya could barely breath without choking on the icy wind. Her feet were freezing. Her hands were numb, even with all the blankets and warm clothes that Enid had brought.

But to Maya’s terror, Enid suffered from the cold even worse. In the windy conditions, it was difficult if not impossible to build a fire. Enid’s fingers went white one night, and Maya busily rubbed them in an attempt to bring the blood back into them. Enid’s teeth chattered constantly.

“Enid, maybe you should go back to your cottage,” Maya suggested miserably, when they were halfway through the journey. “It can’t be far from here.”

“It’s probably in pieces now. Besides, I don’t suppose you know the rest of the way home?” Enid asked, unusually grumpy from the frigid conditions.

“I’ll find it out, but please …!” Maya started, but Enid shook her head.

“I said I’d see you home, and I mean it, lassie!”

They staggered on, shivering and cold. Maya hated every minute of it. Her tears froze on her face, and Muff was just enough to keep Enid’s hands warm. Enid wrapped a cloak around herself and the cat, and Maya held her tightly as they struggled on through the freezing pass.

The pass swelled higher and higher. Every step was painful and difficult. Fear dripped into Maya’s heart like slow poison. What if Enid died in the pass? What if the only kind heart she knew ceased to beat here, frozen in the icy clenches of the Rhomas pass, all for her?

Then one day, Maya woke, her blankets half buried in snow, and realized that Muff was gone. The snow had covered his footprints, and the cat had simply disappeared. He did not return, and Maya realized she would never see her pet again.

“Oh, sweetie,” said Enid, hugging her. “Once you’re safe in your parents’ arms, it won’t hurt so.”

“What if they’re gone too?” Maya whispered. “It’s been so long … twelve years, Enid!”

“Well, will you ever know if we sit here crying over a cat?” asked Enid practically. Maya burst out crying. Enid hugged her tightly, and then pulled her forwards. They had to keep going. Maya searched her mind for memories of her family, trying to fight off the sorrow. But her spirits plummeted once more when they saw fires burning on the pass behind them that night.

“Drat that Bolvick!” scowled Enid.

“Do you think the prince is with him?” asked Maya, wondering if even a scrap of decency was to be found in that army.

“Perhaps, but we’d better not stop for tonight. Must keep moving.”

“But Enid, we can’t keep going … we’re so tired now!”

“Mind your tongue, girl! I’ll not see us get caught just because we’re tired. March, quick! Make haste.”

Maya and Enid went on through the dark and the cold. To Maya’s surprise, the lights did not diminish. They actually came closer. The sun eventually rose, but the fires came rapidly nearer. The day progressed, and now, Maya heard faraway voices, rough and guttural, that sent chills up her spine.

“Blast Bolvick! He ain’t stopping either,” wheezed Enid, stopping to rest upon a stone.

“I suppose it’s good we kept moving,” whispered Maya, sagging against a cliff. “But we can’t keep going … forever …”

“That’s a fact.” They stared at the twinkling lights.

“Do you know how close we are, Maya?” asked Enid, in an unusually gentle voice.

“To what? The end?”

“Tis but a five-mile hike now, I think. That’s the great Eagle Stone up over there.”

“Five miles!” gasped Maya.

“Five miles.”

“And then?”

“And then the plain, the valley … perhaps twenty more until one reaches the kingdom of Doviar.”

“Twenty more … we could reach it in three days.”

“Two days, if one was quick.” Enid said, huddling in her cloak. “But Bolvick’s quicker. He’s all but caught up to us now.”

Maya sank upon a stone and buried her cold face in her shaking, numb hands. She had no tears left to cry, but she felt things could not get worse.

“We can’t hide,” said Enid. “Bolvick keeps hounds. They’ll smell us out.”

“He’ll catch us anyway, then.”

“Not if you run, Maya.”

“What!” Maya looked up sharply. Enid’s eyes were a bit teary, but she blinked stoutly.

“I’ll stay here,” she said valiantly.

“No!”

“I’ll do my best to throw that Bolvick off.”

“No, a thousand times no!”

“And you’ll travel faster without me.”

“Are you listening to me?” Maya cried, her voice shaking and her eyes red. “I will not do it; I will not allow it!”

“Stow that talk now,” said Enid sternly. “You are going to run as fast as you can, Maya, and that is final!”

“I won’t, I won’t!”

“Then I’ll just sit here and scream so that Bolvick comes faster. Or even better! Maybe I’ll roll down the pass and bump into him. It’d be painful for these old bones of mine, but …”

“No, you won’t!”

“Don’t test me, child!” Enid stood up and hugged Maya’s thin, shaking frame. Maya buried her face into Enid’s shoulder. She was too weary, too stunned, too cold … too weary to process.

“You’ll go,” Enid said. “You’ll find your mama, and your papa. They’re down there, sweet—you must go to them. They want you so badly.”

“Yes … but I want you, too,” whispered Maya.

“We don’t always get what we want, sweet,” Enid said practically. “Now go.” She gently pushed Maya away. “Don’t stop—run until you drop. Rest a little, then keep running till you get home. Take one blanket—you won’t need the rest. If you run, you’ll get out of the mountains by nightfall. It’s a straight shot now.”

Maya took one step away. Enid made a shooing motion with her hands. Maya took another step, slow and hesitant. Enid scowled terribly. Maya took another step. Then Enid shouted at her, in a terrible tone of voice.

“Run, child!”

Maya gasped and bounded away, slipping up the slope and climbing to the top. She felt nothing—just numb, shocked. Her fingers groped for the openings in the stones. She kept looking back, unsure what she was hoping for. The path suddenly plunged down. Maya sank against the mountainside and looked down. It ran down into a valley.

Ah, that valley! Maya used to play hide-and-seek in the long, waving grass with her family. She remembered catching frogs and butterflies with her brother and sister, and making bouquets for her mother.

Maya had forgotten this past life. Dozens of sweet memories crowded in a flood, whispering of the lost world that Bolvick had stolen her from. It was so close …

A faint cry rose in the distance. Far away—Enid had held them off, perhaps with stones or taunts, just long enough for Maya. The girl whirled around and stared back at the mountains. Grief finally found a foothold. Pain, sharp like a knife, penetrated her heart at last. A sob burst from her, though no tears accompanied it. More sobs, but still no tears.

Maya swallowed another dry sob, and set about climbing down the mountain. The sun faded, but she did not stop despite the risks. Down and down the path she went. And then … Maya saw firelight. Firelight on the foot of the pass, below. In the light, she saw a flag—the flag of Dorviar. And beside it, she saw a flag waving the seal of her father.

He was there! At the foot of the mountain, watching and waiting for her! Maya rushed headlong down the slope. She reached the bottom well before Bolvick’s army caught up to her, and raced into the camp of Dorviar.

Everything happened in a blur until familiar faces appeared and ran to her. Maya buried her face in her father’s shoulder, and felt her mother’s loving arms wrap around her. Her brother and sister shouted her name in triumphant welcome. Then Maya found tears again—tears for freedom, tears for her joy, tears for safety. And not least, tears for the old woman who had given her these precious gifts.

There would be an empty place for Enid all throughout Maya’s life. She missed Enid especially during Dorviar’s Second Battle against Bolvick, a dark year of combat that finally toppled his reign. Even at the altar with a golden-headed war hero, and in the wonderful years that followed, even until Maya herself was aged as Enid had been, Maya never forgot her old friend.