The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 1)

The hall was vast, the illumination of the orb chasing the shadows only so far. Each step she took sounded in her ears, her bare feet padding over the smooth stone. Sowe would never have gone this far, she thought with a little throb of smugness.

The pointers turned sharply, and she noticed that she’d nearly passed an interior doorway. After crossing to it, she pulled on the handle and saw a set of stairs leading down into the gloom. The tunnel was dark, but there was no dirt nor did she see a single insect hiding in the corners. The steps curved down and around, depositing her in another room.

She was below ground level in a room where the roof was supported by many thick arches. The floor tiles were a different color than the ones above. These were slate gray, in thick squares that tiled the entire area. Rows of wooden benches were arranged facing the head of the room, with an aisle separating them. The benches were waxed and polished, made from dark-stained oak that could seat several people across. She walked down the center aisle, stopping to feel the wood as she passed each one, and the light from the orb illuminated the head of the room.

In the center of a small cove at the head of the room stood a stone table, with a flat squarish surface. It was built atop of several layers of stone blocks. It was long enough that a single body could lay atop the surface, and the sight of it transfixed her. A rushing, soothing, excited feeling came over her when she saw it. What was this strange table? What did it mean?

Reverently, she approached it, running her hand along the edge, careful not to let her muddy shoes touch it. There was something familiar about it, something that whispered inside her heart, calling to her. She glanced down at the orb and saw the pointers aiming to an alcove to the right.

Lia hesitated, not wanting to leave the peculiar room and its enigmatic stone table. Biting her lip, she rested the heel of her hand against the table one more time, trying to understand the source of the feelings inside her. Then she followed the pointers into the alcove that appeared to go nowhere. The alcove was raised slightly up a thin stone step. There was no other way to go.

What was wrong? The alcove led nowhere. Confused, she stepped back off and looked at the pointers again, but they were still pointing into the dead space. New writing appeared in the lower half of the orb, but it was not helpful to her. Going back to the table, the pointers directed her back again to the alcove.

At the alcove, she looked for carvings or Leerings that might give her a clue what she was to do next. The walls were polished stone, like the rest of the room. The workmanship exquisite – no, dazzling. She touched the walls and pushed, but they were firm. Then she stepped back off into the room and looked down at the lip of the step. It had a small gap between it and the floor. She knelt and ran her finger along the edge, and it was cold to the touch. After setting down the orb and her shoes, she pried her fingers beneath it and lifted.

The entire floor of the alcove, stone and all, raised effortlessly, exposing steep stairs down. Breathless with excitement, Lia descended carefully and the lid of the alcove floor swung down above her. With the orb as her only light, her toes scraping against rough stone, she made her way into the bowels of the shaft until it ended in a jagged room that was not pristine or sculptured or scented with fresh flowers. The den was harsh and gloomy and smelled of earth, moisture, and worms. Beneath her feet, the ground was hard and cobbled, and she slipped her shoes back on. Three tunnels diverted in three different directions. Each one was low enough that Lia had to stoop. Without the orb, she never would have known which one to take. It pointed clearly to one of them.

An ancient feeling stifled the air. Above her the full weight of the abbey oppressed her, and the wonder of it startled her and made her a little fearful. Until Colvin had come to Muirwood, she had no idea there were secret rooms beneath the grounds. Perhaps one of the tunnels led to the room where he had discovered the tomes? How many more tunnels were there? What other secrets did the Aldermaston guard so silently?

Clutching the orb, Lia ducked low and started down the tunnel.

* * *

The Leering blocking the way was carved into the likeness of a man with a sad face. It was fixed inside a stone wall that completely blocked the tunnel. The journey through the tunnel felt as if she had walked at least a league, but it could not have been that far for the Pilgrim was just beyond the outer walls of the Abbey grounds, across High Street. Walking with a crouched back and a halting pace did not lend itself well for speed. The Leering seemed subdued, and she looked at it, wondering what kind of power it held. In her mind, she invoked it. Nothing happened. No fire or water or any other such manifestation responded to her. The orb, glowing as brightly and smokeless as it had, continued to point to the wall.