The Scourge of Muirwood (14 page)

“Then Sheol mayhap does not wish to be warned,” he replied.

“Who is Sheol?” Lia asked. “You have mentioned that name. The sailors curse by it.”

“Aye, they do. Sheol is the Queen of the Sea. Queen of the Unborn. The sea is the gateway to her domain, to Ilkarra. When every man dies, their bodies are returned to the earth, but their souls sink down into Ilkarra. Sheol is what
we
call her. The Queen of Storms. The Queen of the Unborn. The Whore of all the earth. The mastons call her Ereshkigal. Did you know that, lass?”

The name sent a shiver up Lia’s spine. She stared at him in shock and surprise. “How do you know that name?”

“Sometimes a maston is careless with his whispers. Sometimes they speak in their sleep or when they are tempted. Sometimes they do not mind the Abbey doors as they ought and a young wretched sneaks in and overhears the maston rites. Ereshkigal is the mother of hetaera. Is that what you seek in Dochte Abbey?” His eyes squinted at her, his face jutting forward intensely. “Do you seek to join them?”

“I am no hetaera,” Lia answered distastefully. “They are my enemy.”

He nodded. “Some believed that my prisoner, all those years ago, that she was one. That she had power over storms. That she was Ereshkigal made flesh. But she was a maston. I promise you that. She was a maston and she could calm a storm.” He swallowed heavily. “I cannot speak what I cannot say. Can you…save us, child? Can you banish these winds? You may be the only thing that can save us now.”

Lia stared at him. “Me?”

“I have done all that I can. My ship will break up. She is already beginning to. In my pride, I thought I could ride her out. I thought I could bring you safely there. But I see now that I cannot. The crew thinks you are causing the storm. Except Malcolm. He says you will save us from it.”

A furious pounding sounded on the door. Tomas whirled and opened it and the black-haired crewman stumbled in, sea-drenched, and gasping.

“She’s foundering! Captain, she’s foundering!” his face was livid with emotions, mostly fear. The sky keened with the wind.

Tomas turned back to Lia with a look of supplication.

Lia advanced, swaying with the ship and stepped out into the storm. The lashing washes had swamped the main deck and crewmen clung to ropes to keep from going overboard. She was blinded by the stinging saltwater, but she squinted as she pushed on, ignoring the howls from the crew when they saw her. She used her arm to shield her face, her vision blurring, and then she saw the gray-eyed crewman, Malcolm – the one who had brought her to the captain to begin with. He was drenched but his expression calm. He nodded to her slowly.

Lia summoned her courage.

Then a cry from one of the crew reached her ears. “Save us!”

It was picked up by another. Then another. “Save us! Save us! Save us from Sheol!”

“Shut your eyes!” she cried out. “Do not watch what I do.”

The Medium began to churn within her, before she even raised her arm to the maston sign. She gripped the wooden bar to keep her balance. Water splashed across her face. Foam hissed like ten thousand serpents.

She remembered the night of the Great Storm in Muirwood. It came back to her in a rush. Jon Hunter, sopping wet, holding rings in his hand. Pasqua refusing to bake the required loaves of bread. Sowe asleep beneath her blanket. Lia saw the Aldermaston’s eyes, heard the tone of his voice.
The rains have plagued us quite enough. They will cease. Now.

“Be calm,” Lia said softly, gently, coaxingly. “Be still.”

The Medium roared inside of her, flooding her senses with light and force. She stared at the ocean, stared at the roiling waves as the wind died around them. The groans from the Holk settled as the waves slipped back down harmlessly. She lowered her hand and stared next at the crew and found them squatting, gripping their ropes or poles and shielding their faces from her as if she were too bright too look at.

The sea was calm. Gentle waves lapped against the hull as the water drained from the ports and doors. There was a hiss and curse in her mind. A presence retreating, fading into the distance. It was familiar to her. It terrified her. The Gift of Seering opened up her mind and she saw the darkness receding from the ship, tossed away like a heavy blanket. In her mind’s eye, she saw Pareigis hunched over a firewell within Muirwood Abbey, scowling furiously. The presence she had sensed was the Queen Dowager’s. It was familiar to her because she had felt it not just in Muirwood, but she recalled feeling it earlier than that. The night before the battle of Winterrowd, she had been plucked by an invisible hand, a hand so powerful she had assumed it to be the king’s will, his mind. But she realized it was another hand – it was the Queen Dowager who had been the puppetmaster.

The Queen Dowager is the form Ereshkigal uses to walk the earth. One of her many forms. It is her sanctuary you approach.

Lia’s feelings shriveled inside her when she finally realized that another hand controlled the Queen Dowager. She could sense that presence still, vast as a starlit sky. The Queen of the Unborn was on the earth. She could assume human form by forging a link through a Kystrel. Lia realized it fully that the Queen Dowager’s family were her chosen minions, her disguise to live in the world. From generation to generation she had been born and born again. Pareigis was young. But the being dwelling inside her was as ancient as Idumea.

* * *

“I am confused and miserable. How can I know the truth of what I am told? The Aldermaston of Dochte says that if the Blight is coming it may be my destiny to stop it and not just warn of it. I must pass the maston test soon, or it will be too late. The king has told me that it is my destiny to marry him, that our alliance will put an end to the civil war and make our kingdom mighty again. He is a kind person, so very thoughtful, but something in his manner makes me distrust him. Or maybe it is because in my heart, in the deepest part of my heart, I cannot bear the thought of marrying anyone but Colvin. I could be the Queen of the realm – yes, me! But I do not desire it. There is never time to sleep in this place. It is study and celebration, study and celebration. Every night going later and later. I am so weary. How can I pass the test when my mind is so tired? The Aldermaston thinks I am nearly ready. I can hear the whispers of the Medium now. They are all around me. This place is so full of the Medium. In Muirwood, I could scarcely hear anything. But after several days in Dochte, the whispers are clear. I especially hear them at night. What is my destiny? What am I supposed to do? Colvin says I must surrender to the Medium’s will. I do not think he understands what that means for every time I look at him, when his eyes seek my own and he smiles in encouragement, the Medium whispers that he will be mine. How I hope it is true. I would give up a kingdom to be his.”

- Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey

* * *

The Holk of Doviur was listing badly, forcing the crew to bail water and work at shoring up the cracks in the seams before she foundered and sank. The beating from the storm had mangled the rigging, terrified the crew, and jeopardized the massive hull. There was no doubt though, in any of the crew’s mind, that Lia had saved them from destruction. As she walked above deck, they looked at her with respect and awe. Some had even asked her for her blessing.

Tomas Aldermaston shouted orders, striding vigorously on the deck and pointing this way and that, identifying new dangers that threatened them. He stared at the deep shelf of the sea, tame once more and beckoned for Lia to join him. She did.

He kept his voice pitched low and it was thick with anger. “We are lost,” he whispered. “That storm blew us hither and yon, and I cannot get my bearings until the night. We should have seen Dahomey shores by now, but I cannot say whether we will see their shores or ours first. We faced the wrath of Sheol, we did. But now we are lost and I fear we will take in more water before we can make it to a harbor to mend the Holk.”

Lia nodded and walked behind him, staring over the bulwark to the flat line of the sea. The waves rippled in little foamy caps and she breathed in the salty air. “The sun is over there, so we sail southward?”

“Aye,” Tomas replied. “That is about the best course I can choose. The gap between our two countries is narrowest between the cities of Doviur and
Ushuaia
. Dochte Abbey is further west but if we have gone past the Spike of Dahomey, we could sail south forever and not reach it until the sea starts to boil.”

“What is the Spike?”

He scowled and frowned, chewing on his thoughts savagely. “The coastline is not flat, lass. There is a bulge of land that comes out like a dagger spike. I know not how far west we were flung, you see. Not until nightfall when I see the stars. But we lose precious time and increase the danger.”

Lia stared into the sea, thinking. Her father had thought of everything. Untying the knot at the pouch, she withdrew the Cruciger orb.

“Well that is a pretty sight,” Tomas Aldermaston said, his eyes growing hungry from the glimmer of pure gold. “Look at how the top bobs and spins. A curious workmanship, lass. Where did you get it?”

Lia ignored him and stared down at the spindles.
Show me the way to Dochte Abbey,
she thought, summoning its powers. The spindles spun around once and pointed due south, the direction they were headed.
Show me Martin.
The spindle did not change.
Show me Colvin
. No change.
Show me Hillel Lavender.
Again, the spindle remained true.

Putting her hand on Tomas’ shoulder, she squeezed and nodded. “We will be there before nightfall. The orb never lies.”

Indeed, it did not. Before much time had passed, the lad in the crow’s nest hollered he could see land. The rest of the crew rushed to the view and watched the kingdom of Dahomey appear across the horizon. A collective cheer rose up and sailors pumped their fists in the air, shocked with relief that they had cheated death during the crossing. Additional crew members touched the edge of her cloak, nodding respectfully to her. The crew clapped each other on the back and went back to their chores with vigor and the listing ship hobbled closer to the edge of Dahomey.

“That is the Spike,” Tomas told her, motioning towards the jut of land. “If we follow the coastline south, we will meet with Dochte Abbey at the edge of it. There is no harbor at the Abbey, but there is one about two leagues to the west – the town of Vezins. The tide defends the Abbey twice a day, you see. When it comes in, it is an island. When it goes out, the road opens. No army has ever been able to lay siege to it. No fleet could attack it because of the tides and the lack of deep water. It took a hundred years to raise it. We will anchor in Vezins and there you must walk to the Abbey. You can cross in the morning, when the tide goes out. I would say hire a village lad, but you have that golden ball to guide you.”

Lia felt the throb of the Medium in her heart. She gripped Tomas’ forearm tightly and blinked tears from her eyes. “You must wait for me, or wait for word from me. I warned you the Blight is coming by Twelfth Night. We do not have long now. If I must flee Dochte Abbey, if they will not listen, I will need a way to escape. Can you fix your ship quickly? More importantly, will you wait for me?”

Tomas’ eyes widened with surprise. “You would have me sail you away from this land?”

She gazed deeply into his eyes. “I may need you to sail me to the edge of the world, Tomas Aldermaston. There is a gathering place. There are ships that will carry us to a distant shore where the Blight cannot touch us. I would have you with us when we go.”

The Medium churned inside her heart. Tomas’ arm trembled where she gripped it. She knew that he could feel it as well. He glanced down at her hand, as if it burned him. A single tear went down his cheek.

“I will wait for you,” he whispered hoarsely. “Ever since I was a lad, I dreamed of sailing to the edge of the world. I built the Holk to survive such a voyage. She will be ready, lass. She will be ready when you need her. And I will be your captain.”

* * *

The Holk docked at the port of Vezins. There was much shouting with those on shore, for they were the first ship to arrive since the storm had battered the harbor and all were curious to hear that they had sailed through it. As Lia was about to begin the walk down the gangplank, Malcolm seized her cloak. She turned and stared at him, noticing the peculiar look in his gray eyes.

“This is Vezins, lass. Do you speak the port speech?”

“I can manage it,” she replied, smiling wryly. She turned to go, but his grip tightened.

“We thanks thee, lass,” he said, switching languages to Dahomeyjan but with a different accent and manner. “Thou sav’dst us from the gale.”

Lia nodded to him, puzzled by the look in his eyes and his more formal manner of speech. She had noticed his eyes when they had first met. There was something odd about him, something she could not make out.

“Thou art welcome,” she answered, her Gift matching his tone and accent, and she paused to see if he would explain himself.