The Scourge of Muirwood (21 page)

Lia swallowed and was about to turn away. She was so grateful to have him nearby. His presence filled her with determination to face the horrors ahead of her. The thought of descending into a pit of snakes made her soul cower with dread. But the look of iron in Martin’s eyes offered a bit of courage.

Lia gave him a fierce hug, ignoring the dirt and the smell that came from him. He trembled slightly, not soiling her with his hands. As she pulled away, she caught the glimpse of a tear in his hard blue eyes. He fought against his feelings, his bearded face jutting and scowling.

“Well met, lass. By Cheshu, well met.” His eyes turned deadly serious. “I will not forsake you. You know that, lass. Not for all the coin or all the glory in all the world. I am faithful to you. I am yours to command.”

“Then we understand one another, Martin Evnissyen. I would have you advise me how to free Colvin and…and…Ellowyn. I want them free from their prison before I face the Aldermaston.”

There was a half-smirk on Martin’s face. “A prison of velvet and gold. A prison of cider and dancing. But a prison, indeed. The Myriad Ones rule this place. The people are all under their thrall. They are blinded to the death that awaits them.”

Lia nodded. “It blinds them slowly.”

A wooden door banged somewhere nearby and Martin nodded for her to flee up the ladder while he began mucking another stall.

* * *

“I do not know what to think. The entire Abbey is fluttering with the news. The Earl of Dieyre arrived. He was set free from Pent Tower under my uncle’s orders. He brought parchment stamped with the privy seal giving him wardship custody over me. This means my uncle took the wardship away from Colvin and gave it to Dieyre. I do not understand how that could happen. I am dismayed. Dieyre said that my uncle has given his consent for me to marry the king, that it will heal the rift between our warring factions and has ordered it to be performed here at Dochte Abbey. If it is done, Demont promises to release the Queen Dowager and we all can return home in peace. I have never seen Colvin so angry. He challenged the seal and said it was a forgery. The whole Abbey is in an uproar. Dieyre promised that my uncle was coming in person and would vouchsafe for his instructions. There was a truce agreed upon after we left the kingdom. I do not want to marry the king. I do not wish it. Colvin took me aside and asked if I desired the marriage. I could not stop trembling for he was touching my hands. I do not wish it. I wish Colvin to take me from this place. I would go anywhere with him. This is not my country. I belong in Pry-Ree. That is where we will hide until the ships take us away if the Blight comes.”

- Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey

* * *

In Malvern Hundred near the border of Pry-Ree stood Leigh Abbey. It was fashioned in the same image as Muirwood, though smaller and not surrounded on all sides by a rotten mass of swamps. The village of Leigh was full of rich and fertile farms with fat sheep grazing in the lowlands. Those sheep were tempting targets of Pry-rian bandits who were known to cross the border and steal them. What very few realized, however, is that the sheep were Pry-rian by origin and generations before had been stolen from Pry-Ree to feed the hungry during a period of famine. What those from Comoros labeled theft was true – from a certain perspective.

Prince Alluwyn stood by the windows where he could observe the approach of the riders and the covered litter. The Aldermaston of Leigh stood nearby and tried to engage him in conversation, but the Prince seemed lost in his thoughts, staring down the road with uncanny patience. The outriders appeared first and that was sufficient for the Aldermaston to beg his excuses.

“I see they have arrived. I must greet the king, my lord. You will excuse me while I attend them. I will bring your…betrothed when she has disembarked from the litter.”

The Prince did not reply and stared as the Aldermaston scowled at him and then hefted towards the doorway, for he was a very portly man.

As the door shut, his bodyguard Kieran Evnissyen spoke disdainfully in Pry-rian. “The rake. He calls your marriage to Lady Demont a sham. Insufferable.”

“Patience,” the Prince muttered. He glanced at the young man pointedly. “A man can see contempt in your eyes. Remember that when treating with him.”

“This whole affair is contemptible, my lord,” he said acidly. “For three years she has been kept under guard since captured by that pirate off the coast of Bridgestow. For three years!”

The Prince smirked. “I know the length of time better than any man, Kieran.” He turned back to the window. He parted the curtain. “There she is, taking the king’s hand.”

Kieran rushed to the frame, but the crowd was thronging them, making a view of her impossible. The rotund Aldermaston shuffled back towards the Abbey manor, leading them.

“Look at the gold collar the king wears,” Kieran said disdainfully. “He is flaunting his great wealth. But at least he looks like a ruler. Your dress is too plain, my lord.”

“I will suit her, I hope. She was raised at a small Abbey after all, far from the wealth and splendor that is so ripe within Dahomey.”

“But she has been held at Pent Tower where even the butler’s costume is finer than yours. It is beneath your dignity.”

The Prince smiled tolerantly and waited as the muffled sound of feet quickly approached the door. Kieran retreated into the shadows again, becoming as inconspicuous as a page. He was young, even for an Evnissyen.

The door opened and the Aldermaston entered again, bringing the guests with him. The king showed his years well, and Alluwyn nodded to him deferentially. His blond hair was well silvered, but it belied a ruthless jut to the chin and penetrating green eyes. His presence reeked of hetaera. The Prince could see their influence on his countenance as marked as any blemish. Rather than exuding light, he seemed to swallow it – every aspect of him was like a vortex, dragging all cheer and brightness and joy from the room. His presence caused a ripple of doom to spread across the opening. The Prince saw the necklace chained around his throat and knew it was a kystrel.

“We meet again, great king of Comoros,” the Prince said with a bow.

“Well met, Alluwyn Lleu-Iselin,” the king answered in a throaty, raspy-like voice. “King of Pry-Ree for now. May I introduce my fair cousin, Lady Elle Demont.”

As the king stepped away, the Prince was unprepared for the reaction the sight of her would bring. His emotions welled like a flood. She had her daughter’s face – the face that had haunted him in dreams and visions for years, the ghost that walked through life near him, whispering of what was to come. The mother and the daughter were distinctive, beautiful, and for a moment he could only see his visions until tears swam and he lost his composure. Summoning his strength, he subdued his feelings, but there was no hiding the wet lashes from the king.

“The Aldermaston will perform the ceremony straightaway in the Abbey itself. You are both mastons and I am not, so I cannot accompany you inside the sanctuary. You may not believe it, but I do not seek your death, Lord Iselin. I seek peace between our kingdoms. In that vein, I suggest a truce to be consummated with this marriage. There will be no incursions into Pry-Ree for five years. In exchange, you will agree that henceforth there will no longer be three kings in your domain. There shall be one ruler. With my cousin at your side, you will do well. Do we have an agreement?”

The Prince stared at the king’s audacity, at his interference with Pry-rian custom. It was not for the king of Comoros to decide the balance of political power within Pry-Ree. But the Prince was wise enough to realize that if he refused the request, his wife would be returned to her prison at Pent Tower.

“The nobles of Pry-Ree will balk at this arrangement,” the Prince said, doing his best to keep the emotion from his voice.

“But surely you can manage it?” the king replied smugly, his eyes probing and earnest. “What other choice do you have?”

“Indeed,” the Prince replied flatly. He saw the situation as it really was. With only one king to rule the entire kingdom, it would undermine the ambitions of the realm. Rather than co-ruling, others would expect greater favors and privileges. It would also mean jealousy as those who craved the right to rule would be tempted to do away with the Prince. So much easier to overthrow a smaller kingdom when it is squabbling internally amongst itself.

“Shall we ready the ceremony?” the Aldermaston suggested. “To acknowledge, of course, the secret marriage you conducted earlier. Shall we go down, my Lord Iselin?”

“May I speak with my wife before giving you our answer?” the prince asked.

The king looked startled and then shrugged. “We will await you without then. Come, Aldermaston. Let us retire to another chamber.”

The door shut softly behind them.

There was a pause, a moment when they looked at each other, unspoken words passing between them in a rush. Before the Prince knew it, the girl was on her knees in front of him, head bowed submissively. “Forgive me, my lord. I have been a burden to you. I did not know my cousin would place those demands on you. I knew none of it. I am ill to think what harm this will bring to you and your kingdom. If we must delay, I will bear it. If we must part…”

The Prince knelt in front of her and took her hands, smiling through his tears. “No. Hush your fears…I will not be parted from you so soon.” He squeezed her hands and stared deep into her eyes. “You will not spend another day in a Comoros prison. You are the lady of Pry-Ree. You are our rightful queen. I will pay whatever ransom to secure you.”

She seemed not to comprehend his words. Tears fell from her lashes, but her look was confusion. “How can this be? I know who I am. My father was murdered on the field of battle by my cousin, the king. My mother and I have been outcasts in Dahomey since that time. I was raised in a poor Abbey in a poor province. I bring you no wealth, no lands, no position. And because I am a Demont, you incur the king’s enmity. All of this is due to a promise you made long ago to my father. I am a burden to you in every possible way. If it would help your kingdom to send me back to Pent Tower, I will face it. Think of your people, my lord. Think on the burdens they must bear if the king gets his will concerning Pry-Ree.”

Very slowly, deliberately, the Prince kissed her hand. He stood and pulled her up with him. “You are mistaken. As I look at you now, I see a prize worth having. A prize worth any wait. It is not because of lands or coins or promises that I desired to marry you. It was not even because of your lord father, though he was my ally and my friend.” He escorted her to the window and parted the curtain. “Do you see the mountains? Those are the Myniths of Pry-Ree. They are treacherous to cross. Wedged deep inside is another Abbey – a small Abbey known as Tintern. That is where I passed the maston test, just as you passed yours at Montargis. It is not the size of the Abbey that matters. It is the strength of conviction. When I spoke to your father of marrying, you were but thirteen. I knew that you were not ready then, for you were too young. Since the troubles of your family, I have watched and observed you from afar. I have observed you through the Gift of Seering, which I possess.” He pressed her hands in between his own. “It was not by chance that you traveled by ship to Pry-Ree and were captured. You are a maston, Elle. If I had communicated the Abbey where to meet me, you could have crossed the Apse Veil immediately. Your years in prison were a proving ground – do you understand? The Medium must prove us before it trusts us. It must prove us that we will be faithful, no matter the temptation. Only through the greatest sacrifices are the greatest powers of the Medium unleashed.” He paused and carefully brushed a strand of hair from her temple. “I was willing to wait to have someone like you. Someone who has passed every test, has remained constant and true. Being trapped in the tower would have broken the spirit of others, but it did not break yours. You were firm and resolute. I see it burning in your eyes. Your desire was never for yourself. Sweet lady, you are my equal in every way that matters most. That is who I wanted to marry. That is who I swore I would cherish. By
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sigil, it is done. You have sacrificed enough for now. Of this I am certain – you will not leave this place with anyone other than myself. We will cross the Myniths, you and I. There are trees taller than any you can imagine. Giant husks of trees that are fallen and burned out by fire. There are waterfalls beyond imagining. There were fords and coves where the waves obey any who hold the rank of maston. We will see them all together. There is much I have to share with you.”

The girl’s eyes were wet and she hugged the Prince fiercely, protectively, and sobbed against his shoulder. He held her, pressing her close, smelling the scent of purple mint in her hair. He was grateful she could not see his face, at the storm of emotions that raged across his features as he clutched her. He had loved her since she was a child, loved her in abstraction for who she would become and his knowledge of what her character would be as a result of all her suffering. But squeezing this woman, this woman of flesh and blood, was deeper than an abstraction. He could already feel his heart throbbing with joy as well as looming sadness. What a contrast, he mused silently, loving the woman so strongly who would break your heart with her impending death. The pain of the thought was exquisite, a deep poignant shard that penetrated to his soul. The tighter she clung to him, the deeper the burr stabbed him.