The Scourge of Muirwood (8 page)

There he was, filling the doorway with his size as he strode into the room.

“Take him together,” Kieran said.

The kishion looked back and forth at them, seeing the change in the battle and blaze and the naked gladius in Kieran’s other hand.

Lia stomped on the kishion’s foot and slammed her dirk against his head, but he responded quickly and deflected the second blow, though her foot had managed to meet his.

Kieran moved like a serpent strike, the blade flashing with the light from the blazing room. The gladius and the dagger met, clanging and hissing as the two engaged. Lia looked for an opening, but the two were a mass of arms and legs. Instead, she rushed to the basket of wet garments and retrieved her gladius. The air was so full of smoke she could barely see either man, but both were coughing. So was Marciana, kneeling on the floor at the base of the doorway, watching as the kishion and the Evnissyen fought.

There was a grunt, a hiss of pain. Kieran’s face was masked with soot. The two smashed into each other again, stabbing, feinting, thrusting. Then the kishion was swung around and struck a bedpost, his head whacking it so hard that spittle sprayed from his mouth. Kieran had lost the dagger somehow, but his fist buried in the kishion’s ribs and she heard the bones snap. Then a knee went up and the kishion doubled over. He popped up quickly again, striking Kieran in the face with his palm.

Kieran staggered back, grimacing, and Lia noticed blood on his sleeve as a wound stained his shirt. With a scowl of hatred, Kieran struck so fast his gladius sunk into the kishion’s gut, pulled it out just as quickly, as the dead man slumped to the ground.

“You are wounded,” Lia said, seeing the rivulet of blood coming from his arm.

“So glad you noticed,” he replied curtly then coughed violently. He surveyed the blazing room, the fire thrashing the rafters. He moved quickly, stepping up on a chest and yanked down another set of curtains from the windows by the iron bar.

“To the stairwell before we choke to death!” he ordered. “Did you light the room afire? You did, I know it. Foolish, foolish girl!”

Lia rushed to Marciana and helped her stand and then pulled her down the stairwell.

Marciana’s eyes were swollen but thankful. “I begged the Medium that you would find me in time,” she whimpered. “I am so grateful, Lia. Where is Colvin? Is he truly in Dochte Abbey? He is in great danger.”

“What precisely do you consider our present situation to be?” Kieran shouted from behind. “A maypole dance? Lia, break that window. Dieyre’s men will have gathered at the door below by now. I lowered the crossbar, but it will not hold for long.”

She noticed the banging coming from below. The windows were narrow and veiled, the glass dark with soot. She tried to unfasten them and Kieran just grunted in amazement.

“I said smash them, girl! We do not have much time!”

Lia used her gladius hilt and struck the window, smashing it. He joined her on the stairs and dropped the mass of curtains and helped her crush the window panes. Then heaving the mass of curtain over the edge, he let it tumble down the side. Then he fixed the curtain rod against the wall on each side of the window to act as a brace.

He looked down below and winced, shaking his head furiously. He glanced up at the room and saw the fire blazing down the stairwell. “The curtain only reaches partway down. We will have to jump the rest. Lia, you first. Climb to the end of the curtain, hang there, and then fall. Quickly, girl!”

“Will the curtain hold my weight?” she asked.

“Only one way to know. Go!” He coughed against his arm, gripped her waist and hoisted her up the window ledge.

Lia sheathed her gladius in her belt and grabbed the curtain. She started outside and heard some fabric rip and her stomach lurched seeing how far it was to the ground below. Above, the roof of the tower was blazing. Smoke came from the window above, calling attention to Lambeth for all to see. There was nothing but cobblestone below her, which would not cushion a fall. Several bystanders in the street were pointing and shouting in worry. She lowered herself hand over hand down the length of the curtain until she was at the lowest part. She dangled from the curtain, trying not to be dizzy, and glanced down at the street. It looked so far away.

Jump
.

The whisper in her thoughts compelled her.

She fought down her fears and let go of the curtain. Plummeting like a stone, she then struck the cobbles below with jolt of pain. It was not so far as it seemed after all, and she sighed with relief.

“Lia!” came a voice. Reome rushed through the bystanders on the street to her.

Lia realized through her daze that they were outside the manor walls. The tower window was on the exterior wall of the grounds. Lia was grateful and hugged Reome quickly. When she turned back, she saw Marciana coming down the length of curtain. Ash sprinkled down from the blaze of the tower beams above. Cinders rained as well, stinging her eyes as she looked up. Marciana struggled against the fabric, but she lowered herself down as well. She reached the end of the curtain.

“Jump!” Lia said. “It is not far!”

There was a smashing sound as the door to the tower was finally forced open. Shouts and the thunder of boots on the stairwell sounded.

Marciana dropped and Lia and Reome both tried to catch her to break her fall. The force of her impact knocked them all down, but she was safely on the ground and spluttered with the smoke. Then sobbing, she clung to Lia’s neck and wept.

Marciana turned and looked up at him, shaking her head. “We were too heavy,” she cried. “He was holding the curtain with his hands.”

Kieran was out the window next, starting down the curtain length. They all stood as he hurriedly descended. But there was a ripping noise as the curtain came loose. Marciana shrieked. Lia stood in shock as he fell. She tried to rush in and cushion him but could not move fast enough. She watched the look and blaze of pain contort his face as he landed on his back. His head whipped back on the stone cobbles with a sickening crunch. His body lay still. Bystanders gasped with shock and scattered back, some screaming. The alleyway emptied, save for the girls.

Lia stared at Kieran’s body in shock. A stream of blood ran in the grooves of the cobblestones. Soot and ash rained down on them. She looked up at the mass of fire and then down at the fallen man. The Medium surged inside of her, building stronger and stronger. It was a flood, the pressure mounting, squeezing her, blinding her.

Marciana stared at Kieran, stricken, her eyes brimming with tears. Reome looked pale seeing a dead man at their feet.

“Close your eyes, both of you!” Lia screamed. They obeyed and she lifted her hand in the maston sign.

Lia made the maston sign by raising her hand in the air and touching the dead man’s forehead with her other. She recognized the pattern now, as she had seen it before. There was something sacred about death, especially a death offered as a willing sacrifice for others to live. She had participated in that sort of end herself, which allowed the Abbey’s defenses to flood the lowlands surrounding Muirwood and destroy the Queen Dowager’s army. The Medium’s will had been fulfilled and its power now could be fully invoked. Not for her benefit – never for her own benefit. But for the greater good of all.

“Kieran Ven, I Gift you with life. You will live and you will heal.” Her voice thickened with emotion as the power of the Medium continued to rush through her. “By Idumea’s hand, you will live, Kieran Ven. You will live and you will heal.”

The power of the Medium continued to surge through her. There were screams in her mind throughout Comoros. She could hear them all, a cacophony of despair and accusation. She could sense the blood of dead mastons calling out to her, clinging to her soul and shaking her with fury and revulsion.
We are the dead mastons of this kingdom, murdered by our king because we would not forsake our oaths. The oaths which you have sworn yourself to pass the Apse Veil! Avenge us!

The Medium was a roar in her ears. The ash and cinders thickened like hail. It was still growing inside of her. It raged like the fire within the crumbling tower. Lia straightened, her hand still held high in the maston sign. Her blood thundered and boiled. She could only see the blaze of the fire above her. Her hand was pointed towards it. Not to quell it, but to feed it. She sensed the fire’s greedy urge to consume.

Unbidden words filled her mouth. They came in a foreign tongue, the ancient language of the Idumeans, given to her through her Gift of xenoglossia. “
Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas.”
It was the sacred language to control fire. In her mind, it was nightfall and she saw the Stews burning.

* * *

“The Aldermaston of Dochte Abbey helps me a great deal. He explains the tomes in such a clear way that I am beginning to understand them. It used to be so frustrating when Colvin explained things, because I could not understand what he was saying, even though I wanted to and he grew angry. The key is to see the inner meanings. The Aldermaston showed me several passages today, for example, that spoke of the First Parents in the Garden of Leerings. It was of a serpent who whispered the truth of what they needed to do to gain the knowledge they required. The serpent is one of the aspects of Idumea. It is clear to me now. A way was provided to whisper the truth. That is a symbol of the Medium. The symbol of the serpent is the greatest manifestation of the Medium’s power. When I explained this knowledge to Colvin, he looked at me differently. It was a look of respect. I have never seen him look at me that way before. It happened often when Lia was nearby and it always made me jealous. Today it made me dizzy.”

- Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey

* * *

“He is finally waking,” Reome announced, drawing Lia away from the doorway to the bedside.

Kieran’s eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Lia in confusion. Then his face grimaced with pain, uncontrollable pain. His teeth clenched and he groaned.

“I fell,” he gasped. His neck muscles strained as he lifted his head.

“You are alive,” Lia said soothingly.

His face was tortured with pain. He clenched his jaw, willing to control himself, to keep from blurting out with his suffering. His fingers clenched within the blanket. “My back is broken,” he said darkly.

Reome stifled a moan of horror.

“You will heal,” Lia said, touching his shoulder.

Kieran’s face contorted with pain, but he breathed through his nose and mastered it. “I smell smoke. Are we near Lambeth still?”

“No, it is eventide. The smoke is on the wind. Comoros is burning.”

He looked at her, his face confused. “The whole city? Ablaze? How?”

Lia looked down at her hand. “The fires came from Lambeth. Everything was built so close together. It went from rooftop to rooftop. Then it burned the bridge. It rages still.”

Sweat dripped down Kieran’s temples. He reached with his hand and gingerly touched the back of his head. He looked confused. He spoke to her in Pry-rian, masking his language so Reome would not understand. “I thought…I remembered…hitting my head. Then blackness. Then the Apse Veil.” He wiped his face slowly. “I died.”

“It was not your time to die, Kieran Ven.”

The look he gave her was full of pain and fury. “It was my time to go to Dahomey. I had a duty to perform and you thwarted it.”

She shook her head. “It was the Medium’s will that we journeyed to Lambeth.”

“You say it as if you could command it. As if you did command it to summon me to that burning tower.” He frowned with fury. “I have never done anything so foolish in my life. I deserve to be dead. I was careless. But there was a need drawing me after you. I could do nothing but worry and pace after you left. Almost at once I regretted it. So I left the laundry maid in the shadows, climbed the wall like a thief and ran after you. Someone saw me, of course, and summoned the servants and the guards. I had to knock down four men just to get to the tower door, and then the flames!” He winced with a spasm. “You nearly got us all killed.”

The door opened and Marciana entered, her face smudged with soot, her gown ruined by the smoke. “I heard voices. He has come around?”

Lia had never seen Marciana look so disheveled, but some of her strength had returned. The weeping child from the tower was gone now. The only gown she had was the one Dieyre had left her, and she clutched at the bodice with one hand to guard her modesty. There was fire in her eyes, especially after she learned from Lia that Reome was carrying Dieyre’s child.

“Ah, the reason for our delay,” Kieran said gruffly, still muttering in Pry-rian. “And my downfall.”

“Be civil,” Lia advised back. “She is the sister of an earl who is Demont’s ally.”

Marciana held up her hand. “Please…do not speak in a language I cannot understand. Lia, please, I insist. I owe you my gratitude, Kieran Ven. I wish to express it myself. You saved my life today.”

Kieran looked at her coldly. “Your gratitude is of no recompense to me, my lady. You were not my mission. Permit me a little disappointment that I cannot stand to greet you properly. I do not want or require your sympathies.”