The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3) (36 page)

My love please wait

Word reached me that the Dochte Mandar annulled our marriage and suitors from Hautland have come seeking your hand. I will not rage against fate or the Medium. I know you have longed for freedom. To marry who you choose by irrevocare sigil. I know you have always desired to marry a maston, and Prince Oderick is truly one. It is my belief that he is sincere. That the alliance with Hautland is real. Simon is dead. I do not trust the messages I am getting about you. Rumors that the Victus are preparing to wage war against all of us. It may last for years. Having Hautland as an ally would be a blessing. But please, my dearest love, please wait for me. Do not decide rashly. Do not promise yourself yet. Wait for me. I will come for you.

Ne-mou-blie

Ne-mou-blie

Ne-mou-blie

Her throat caught with anguish, and tears stung her eyes as she stared at the little flower in her palm.

Forget me not.

Forget me not.

Forget me not.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Invasion

T
he fire Leerings burned so hot in the sickroom that sweat trickled down Maia’s forehead, back, and ribs. The days were a jumbled heap in her mind, difficult to sort out. She dipped a cloth in the warm water, sopped it, squeezed out some of the excess, and then gently patted Prince Oderick’s feverish skin. Despite the oven-like temperature in the sickroom, he shivered and convulsed. His lips were chapped and peeling. His skin looked sunken against his flesh. He was shriveling before her eyes, his throat and cheeks pocked with lesions. After six others attending him had fallen victim to the symptoms as well, there had been no other visitors. No one except for Maia.

Doctor Bend was terrified of coming down with the plague sores himself. No one knew how it was transmitted. Each victim suffered agonizing coughs that spewed spittle into the air. Then there was sweating and shaking and, earlier this morning, the prince had begun bleeding from his eyes. It was a grotesque suffering.

“I beg you . . . forgive . . .” the prince wheezed. His eyes were haunted, delirious.

“Forgive? Forgive what?” Maia asked, bathing the water-sodden cloth against his forehead.

His weak hand trembled and then touched her arm, as weak as a puppy. “Forgive . . . me. I was fooled . . . by the Victus.” He blinked, seized by a contortion of pain. “Hautland will revenge. My people . . . will know . . . you tended me. When I was sick.” He doubled over and coughed, moving away from her and hacking violently.

Maia’s heart ached to see him in this state. She did not fear the disease that ravaged those in the palace’s sickroom. Though she tended them all, she had a calm sense of assurance that she, as the originator of the illness, could not be harmed by it.

He lay panting after the cough, his breaths coming in deep rugged gasps. His jaw locked and he began to seize. And then suddenly, he was still, his final breath ebbing from him like a punctured water skin. Maia bit her lip as she watched him die. It was strange to see, almost as if his skin was sloughing something off. A part of him was gone. The wasted flesh remained behind, but something greater lingered in the air around her. She felt tears prick her eyes, not of sadness, but of relief.

An invisible hand seemed to rest on her shoulder as she closed her eyes, feeling her heart brim with emotions. A brightness illuminated the room.

“Farewell, Prince Oderick,” she whispered through her tears. “Until we meet again . . . in Idumea.”

She felt a trembling feeling of warmth and appreciation glide across her shoulders. Who he was . . . the essence of his being . . . was not lying still and crumpled on the bed—she
knew
it. It was like staring at a rumpled shirt on the floor—evidence of the man who had worn it, but not of the man himself.

Thank you, my lady.
The thought-whisper was so faint, she almost missed it.

Drenched with sweat, Maia rose and extinguished the blazing Leerings all at once with a final thought. She dropped the cloth near the dish and then walked to a wash basin near the door and rinsed her hands with lye. She lingered a moment, realizing with a mixture of pathos and horror that the others so infected would likely die that day as well.

Then she opened the door and walked out. The corridor was heavily guarded, preventing passersby from straying near the sick and dying men. Maia found Richard, his gray hair askew, conferring with the Hautlander chancellor. Both men looked at her with imploring eyes. She nodded to them.

“The prince is dead,” she said softly. A hush fell over those crowding the hall.

Captain Carew strode up to her. “Your Majesty, you
must
abandon the city. The armada could be here any moment. You must go!” he said, his voice burning with impatience.

“Walk with me,” Maia said, heading toward her personal chambers, where she could change.

Richard and the Hautlander chancellor followed as well, and the crowd parted for them to pass.

“How many are left in the city?” Maia asked, keeping a brisk pace.

“One in ten,” Richard answered. “Your ladies persuaded half of those who refused. They are still out there trying. I think they should be summoned back to the palace.”

Maia nodded her head. “Absolutely. Have them evacuate through the Apse Veil to Muirwood immediately. Tell them I will meet them at the abbey.”

Richard gave her a confused look. “You are not coming with us through the Veil?”

Maia shook her head. “I will not abandon the people while they trek across the kingdom to safety. I must lead them to Muirwood. Richard, I want you to make sure Aldermaston Wyrich sends supplies, carts, horses . . . anything he can muster to help us.”

She saw Jon Tayt approaching out of the corner of her eye. “The first ships have been spotted,” he shouted. His eyes had a wild look about them.

Richard took her arm. “The palace is near the river. They will land here first. You
must
leave!”

She looked at Captain Carew. “Ready my horse!”

He looked at her as if she were crazed. “My lady, the road is no place for a queen right now. The people are desperate. They—”

“They need to see me, Captain,” Maia said firmly. “I have slept in the woods many times. Jon Tayt has already agreed to see me to Muirwood safely. Get my horse ready.”

“Already done,” Jon Tayt said with a smirk, closing the gap between them. “I would trust no other to do it right, by Cheshu. We leave through Ludgate. The guards will hold that gate until the very end, then retreat after us, forming a defense for the refugees when the Naestors attack.”

“You are utterly foolish,” the captain said with a snarl. “You could be in Muirwood within the hour!”

She put her hand on his arm. “And leave my people to be slaughtered?” She looked then at Richard. “Has Joanna evacuated Augustin and Doviur?”

“Yes,” he answered. “She shut the abbey and sealed it from within. I received word she arrived in Muirwood this morning.”

Maia smiled with relief. “Tell her I look forward to greeting her. We should arrive at Muirwood in two days’ time.” She looked around. “Where is Justin?”

“Leading the evacuation. He has not slept in two days,” Richard answered with admiration.

Maia turned to look at the Hautlander chancellor. “My lord, you are coming with us to Muirwood?”

“I am, my lady,” he said, wiping perspiration from his forehead. “My ship is sailing around to Bridgestow. If it makes it, then we will depart from there for Hautland. I fear treachery on the seas if the armada has formed a blockade. I have an able captain, my lady. I have sent a messenger through the Apse Veil to Viegg with a warning and orders to summon soldiers to help fight the Naestors. It will take time, but we will assist you. You have treated our prince with the greatest courtesy and compassion. It will not be forgotten.”

Maia was grateful for the words, but she worried the assistance would not come in time. “Thank you, Chancellor. I did what I could.”

They reached the outer doors of the palace and quickly descended the steps to a courtyard teeming with horses. Her spike-haired groomsman, Jacobs, stood holding the reins of her palfrey. “Up you go, Your Majesty,” he said with a grunt, helping her mount.

As soon as she settled into the saddle, Jon Tayt inspected the girth straps to make sure nothing had altered.

Jacobs looked affronted. “No one touched her, Master Tayt,” he said with a snort. “I assure you, I
too
know how to saddle a horse properly!”

Maia was grateful to be mounted and ready to depart. She saw a hand reaching up toward her and noticed Carew was handing her a hooded cloak, a simple riding cloak, nothing to mark her as nobility. She accepted it and fastened the clasp.

“She looks like she can run quite a ways,” Jon Tayt said, slapping the horse’s flank affectionately. “A sturdy girl. I like her.”

“Thank you,” Jacobs said with barely concealed annoyance. “I am pleased she earns your approval.”

Jon Tayt adjusted the strap of the shoulder armor he wore. He looked like a bristling hedgehog of weapons. Arrows fanned out from his back like turkey feathers. Several throwing axes were stuffed in hoops in his belt and a large battle-axe was strapped to a piece of leather on his shoulder. He was equipped with shooting gloves, dirks, and even a gladius for close combat. A shorter pony was waiting for him, and he quickly mounted up with a jangle of his weapons.

“Your Highness!” shouted a voice.

A herald wearing the livery of Caspur pressed through the swelling crowd. Maia waved for him to approach and he rushed over and quickly dropped to one knee in front of her. “My lady, my name is Collin, herald of the Earl of Caspur.”

“What news?” Maia asked, seeing the man’s nervous look.

“There has been a battle,” he said, coming up close. Richard Syon sidled up on foot, his face grave.

Maia frowned, trying to keep her restless horse still.

“The Naestors came inland and started killing stragglers. The earl could not abide the slaughter and led his men against them. It was a trap, and we were quickly outnumbered by reinforcements.”

Maia closed her eyes, dreading the news.

“The fighting was fierce, my lady. The Naestors are bloodthirsty and savage, but the earl’s men were not cowards. Though we were outnumbered, we fought them off. They went back to the ships to fetch more men and are coming at us again. The earl bade me to tell you that we are retreating as you ordered and will slow the Naestors’ advance as best we can. We lost many good men in the battle. But he wanted you to know they fought bravely. They fought for you.” He mopped his mouth on his glove. “He did not bade me to say this, but I will say it all the same. He rallied the men with a speech, my lady. He sang your praises to the skies. That you were a true queen-maston, that the Medium would deliver us from our enemies if we believed in you as he does. The men fought like lions, my lady. Even outnumbered as we were.”

Maia felt a rush of pride and appreciation for the Earl of Caspur. “Well done, my lord,” she said, grinning down at the herald. “Thank you. I have full confidence in your master. How many did you lose?”

The herald gave her a hard look. “Three thousand men,” he said chokingly. “But they lost six . . . maybe eight thousand. There was no time to count the corpses.”

“How many more do they have attacking from the south?” Maia wondered aloud.

The man looked at her fiercely. “It matters not. We will hold them, my lady. We will hold them all for you.”

Maia gave him a grim smile and then regarded Jon Tayt as he brought his mount up next to hers.

“A fine kettle of fish,” he said with a crooked grin. Despite his pointy beard, he almost looked like a boy on the eve of his nameday celebration.

One more time, Maia looked back at Richard. “We will see each other again in Muirwood, Richard. We are coming
home
.”

He gave her that look again, a fatherly look of tenderness and affection she had not seen from her own father since she was a small child. Although he would not say it, she knew that even though he worried about her, he was proud of her decision to stay with the people.

As her retinue rode out of the courtyard and into the deserted streets, she saw with amazement that the streets had been swept clean. The people began to cheer for her long before she reached Ludgate. As she rode through the gate on the palfrey, the roar became deafening.