The Scourge of Muirwood (6 page)

Another surge of lightning, another throaty roar of thunder. The Prince stood in the middle of the valley, his hand raised high. Before him, a huge slab of boulder hovered in the air.

“By Cheshu!” Martin swore, unable to believe what he saw. He wiped the rain from his eyes and stared again, trying to see through the blackness once more. Lightning lit up the sky overhead, the image revealing the boulder slowly coming down, as if it were hoisted in the arms of some invisible harness. The Prince’s skin glowed white. In the flash that followed next, the boulder was firm on the ground. Martin started. The Prince had collapsed.

He kicked the horse’s flanks and rode hard down the hillside to the valley. The hooves churned and splashed up mud. As he reached his master’s side, Martin shook himself out of his stirrups and came down. The Prince’s face was ashen.

“My lord!” He felt for the throb of his heartbeat and it was there, just a tremulous little thing. “My lord prince! Are you awake? Can you speak?”

The Prince’s eyes fluttered open. He was exhausted. “A little rest, Martin. Then I will be well.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“I brought the acorns. My saddlebag is full.” He wiped rain from the Prince’s face. The sky drenched them.

“Scatter them,” the Prince whispered. “All around the stone.”

“You want me to scatter them? But why?”

The Prince grimaced with pain. Air hissed through his teeth. “Do it,” he repeated. “They will remind her of home when they are grown. Remind her…of Muirwood.”

“My lord? Who is this girl you keep seeing? Who is she? Is it your bride? Is it Demont’s daughter? Is she in danger?”

A smile twitched on the Prince’s mouth. “Danger,” he whispered. “When is she not in danger? You must help…protect her, Martin. Train her. Evnissyen – she must be trained as one. You must teach her to survive. To live. She will save…our people…from the Blight.”

“Your wife? Your young wife in Dahomey? Demont’s daughter?”

“No,” the Prince gasped, shaking his head against Martin’s arm. “No. My daughter.”

His arm trembled as he lifted it, finger pointing to the boulder that moments ago had hovered in the air. When the lightning flashed again, Martin saw the Leering carved into its face.

It was the face of a young girl with rivulets of unruly hair.

* * *

“I learned today that my grandmother first studied at Dochte Abbey when she was my age. I had always believed she came as a learner at twelve. My mother, however, did not study here because she was not the daughter of a king. But my grandmother was the daughter of a king, and the sister of one, and so by rights could study here. The Aldermaston showed me her tome. When someone passes the maston test here, they promise to grant their tome to the Abbey to protect the knowledge which they contain. My grandmother was married when she was nine years old to an Earl. How awful I felt for her. Her first husband died when she was my age. They had no children together, though he spawned a brood from his first wife. My grandmother swore an oath that she would never marry again unless he was a maston. I think her first marriage was very tragic. She studied at Dochte Abbey and passed the maston test within her first year. The Aldermaston said that women learn quickly in Dochte Abbey. He also told me that my grandmother fell in love with another earl – Sevrin Demont. The Aldermaston said that at the time, the people believed that Sevrin had seduced my grandmother because she was the sister of the king and that he wanted power through her. But I have read her tome. It is clear to me that she wanted him and that she influenced the king to get what she wanted. I did not realize a woman could have so much power.”

- Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey

* * *

Lia and Kieran followed Reome to Lambeth manor, a stone fortress built in the heart of a rundown neighborhood in the center of the Stews. The grounds were blocked by ivy-fed stone, tipped with spikes but there were tree branches visible within, revealing some open inner area beyond the walls. The manor had a large main keep that rose up in the north apex of the grounds, but it was not as imposing as the citadel of Pent Tower. Still, it was impossible to see inside the grounds of Lambeth and as Reome approached one of the porter doors at the rear, Lia motioned for Kieran to hold back.

“What are you going to do?” Kieran asked.

“Talk to her and learn what I can. Then I will take her shawl and basket and go inside.”

The look he gave her was beyond astonished. “That is your entire plan?”

“I am not asking you to go with me.”

“You are asking to be caught or killed,” he said, seething. “We have found Lambeth. Let us study it for several days to learn their routines, their faces, their weaknesses…”

Save Marciana.

The jolt from the Medium was so strong and insisting it made her eyes blur with tears. She saw Reome reaching for the knocker and knew she had to act.

Glaring at Kieran, she whispered, “If you do not wait for me, I will understand. But the Medium bids me do this.”

Lia summoned her courage and advanced, closing the distance before Reome knocked. “So this is where you live now?”

Startled, Reome jerked around and stared at Lia in surprise. It was clear she had recognized Lia’s voice. “What are you doing in Comoros?” Her eyes betrayed loathing as well as fear. “Is he paying you as well?”

Lia noticed Reome hug the basket protectively and had a suspicion. She reached for the wicker rim and lifted the blanket covering the wet contents. Within the basket were several green gowns, too fancy and expensive to belong to Reome. The workmanship showed a master seamstress and the color was the kind that Marciana preferred.

“She is here, Reome,” Lia said. “This is where Dieyre is keeping Marciana.”

Reome bit her lip. “Who sent you? The Aldermaston?”

Lia nodded.

“I hate that old man. I…I like it much better here than Muirwood.” Her eyes were filling with tears.

“In the Stews? Reome…this is not your home. Dieyre escaped the tower last night. Did he come back? Is he here now?”

Reome still clutched the basket to her stomach, but she wiped tears on her arm. “No. He is in Dahomey. That is where…why are you here? How did you find me?”

“I am a hunter, Reome. You always teased me about that. I have hunted Colvin’s sister.”

“I must go inside,” Reome said, trying to pull away, but Lia gripped the edge of the basket tightly.

“What did Dieyre promise you?” Lia asked.

Reome showed her teeth. “I do not have to answer to you. This is where I work. If I do not return, they will look for me.”

Lia stepped closer, pitching her voice lower. “Did he promise he would claim the baby, Reome? Or will you abandon it as a wretched as
you
were abandoned?”

The look in Reome’s eyes was haunted. It spoke of misery, of sleepless nights, of tortured hopes. She struggled with her emotions, her face contorting with pain.

“How did you know that?” Reome whispered faintly. She trembled, her skin going pale. “I have told no one save him.”

Lia touched Reome’s arm. “Go back to Muirwood.”

Reome’s lip trembled. Tears dribbled down her cheeks. “He will not…take me back…not after all I have done.”

Lia was not sure if she meant the local blacksmith or the Aldermaston. “If you stay in Comoros, you will die. So will the babe. It is true, Reome. You must believe me. A great sickness is coming. It will sweep over every land, every kingdom. There is only safety in Muirwood. The Aldermaston will take you back. I promise you he will. Did Dieyre promise to bring you to Dahomey?”

Reome sniffled and nodded. “He has a manor there. Better than this one. He promised I would never work. That I could live there and raise the child. I was told he sent for me. That I would leave on a ship. Tonight.”

Lia angered at the lie. She knew the truth as soon as Reome had spoken. She saw it flash in her mind like a blaze of lightning. “No. He will keep you here. You are the decoy. It is Marciana who is leaving tonight in your place. You are her disguise. Do you see my friend over there? The tall one in the shadows? He will show you a safe place to go. Where are they hiding her? In the keep?”

Reome shook her head.

“You must tell me.”

Reome flinched. “It will be my death if I do.”

“I will protect you. Believe that. I will take your place and go inside. Let me free her and you can both go back to Muirwood. Please, Reome. You must tell me where she is.” Lia pushed the thought at her – along with her will, her intentions, her desire to protect Reome and her child. The Medium throbbed in the air and softened the look on Reome’s face.

“The east tower. That one,” she said, pointing. “But Lia, you cannot get to her. She is guarded day and night by a man. He…he frightens me. He said he would kill me if I told anyone she was here. They say…he kills mastons.”

A kishion.

Lia sighed deeply. She clenched her jaw and nodded firmly. The Medium would protect her. She pulled on the basket. “Give me your shawl.”

“Lia, I know you are a hunter…”

“You cannot go back there, Reome. Muirwood is the only place you can save your child. Do you have any money?”

“I have a little.”

“Then go home, Reome.”

She bit her lip. “How do you know…that Dieyre is lying? He is a noble. He would not abandon me.”

Lia stared her in the face. “I know Dieyre better than you do, Reome. I know about his false promises. You see, he tried to kill me. Quickly, give me your shawl.” The urgency to rescue Marciana burned inside her, compelling her to act quickly.

* * *

In the courtyard at the center of the Lambeth grounds was a giant oak tree, leafless and dying. Maybe the choking air had finally destroyed its growth. Perhaps some wasting sickness had struck its branches which were huge and pointed every direction like a sharpened hedgehog burrowing in the mud. Moss grew on one side and clumps of mistletoe buds were thick in the boughs. It was a dead thing – a shell of a tree. For a moment, it reminded Lia of the oak forest surrounding Muirwood and a chill went through her heart. The scarf covered her hair and she had traded cloaks with Reome to hide her hunter leathers. She had no time to conceal her bowstave, so she had given it to Reome to hold and sent her away with the arrow quiver. Lia carried her dirk with the hand supporting the basket beneath and had her unsheathed gladius hilt in the other hand, the blade resting atop the damp garments but underneath the wrap to conceal it. She wanted two weapons ready when she faced the kishion.

Martin had trained her well. She knew all the locations where to stab a man and kill in one thrust. She realized she might only have one chance to kill him. It was kill or be the victim herself. The Medium had led her to Comoros. Strangely, her life felt as if she were a small boat bobbing on a river rushing wildly through a maze of rocks and rapids. It pulled her quickly, no matter how she longed to slow it.

Her heart beat frantically as the porter opened the door and let her in. She did not acknowledge his curt greeting and merely tromped inside, clutching the basket to her bosom as she quickly surveyed the courtyard and saw the oak. The inner yard was a giant circle, grown with sod and ringed with cobblestones. She counted three doors giving access to the manor house from the interior, and one directly at the base of the tower Reome had pointed to. She took the pathway to the right and followed it towards the tower, her heart pounding in her ears. She wished she could have checked the Cruciger orb. Glancing at the upper windows, she noticed the heavy curtains blocking them. She had no idea what was happening inside.

A raven caw startled her and she noticed the black bird perched atop a flag spike. The building was larger than the Aldermaston’s manor house – it was two stories compared with one, and the towers rose to a third height, the main keep rising the highest of them all. The tower she sought was on the edge of the grounds, connecting to an outer wall with spikes fastened into the stone like a ridge of teeth. She crossed the path to the door and shoved at it with her basket. A porter opened the door and looked at her curiously. Lia glanced behind him and saw a stone stairwell ascending up the gullet. There were no other guards.

“Set the basket down by the brazier,” the porter told her. “I will carry it up later. They wish no interruptions.”

Lia nodded and carried the basket into the chamber and set it down by the brazier. She released the gladius blade resting in the basket but turned the dirk over in her hand to conceal it from him.

“Move along, girl.” He waved for her to leave the way she had come.

Lia walked towards the door and saw him glance outside and look at something that interested him. His distraction was all she needed. Her hunter training flowed back to her, filling her with knowledge. There was a spot on the back of the skull. With the dirk handle, she clubbed him there and his eyes rolled back in his head and she caught him as he fell and laid him out on the floor. Then she shut the door softly and glanced up the stairwell winding its way up within the tower. She could hear the murmur of voices, but could not discern any of the words.