The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 3)

The Aldermaston leveled his eyes at her. “Even were I to let you go and you managed to return to warn Gideon in time, do you think it would really matter? Muirwood will be mine at last. The most ancient Abbey in the realm will finally become the grandest. When I become its Aldermaston, there will be no more profits spent on Demont and his pitiful army. Then perhaps he will finally be persuaded to end this fruitless contest for power.” He put his hand on her shoulder, his thick heavy hand. “A pheasant. Or a pig. You may hunt on my grounds, but you cannot leave them. I forbid it. You serve me now, child.”

Lia stared in his eyes, saw the intensity there – the deliberateness. How many other knight-mastons had he waylaid?

She reached up and put her thumb on the back of his hand and her fingers around the edge of his palm. With a quick twist and jerk, she yanked his arm around and brought him to his knees with a howl of pain. She bent the wrist backwards, driving him into the tile. She flexed the wrist harder, making him yelp.

“I serve the Aldermaston of Muirwood,” she said tightly. “If any of your people try and stop me, I pity them.”

“I am an Aldermaston!” he quailed, his voice throbbing with pain. “I will invoke the Medium to destroy you!”

There was nothing in the air, not even the faint murmur of the wind.

“By all means try,” she replied, waiting a moment for anything to happen. When nothing did, she shoved him away from her. The older maston was returning with a fresh cup of cider, his eyes popping in shock to see his master handled thus. But he did not approach her.

Lia turned and walked back out the door, flinging it open as she walked. The Aldermaston let out a rush of commands.

“Give me that! You fool! Summon my guards! Do not let her escape. The Earl of Dieyre said he would pay handsomely for her. Get her! Get her!”

Lia ran down the huge corridor, her heart pounding, her stomach thrilling. She reached the doors and yanked them open as the sound of clattering steps echoed throughout the vast maze. The door servants were there, holding the black polished staves. They turned and crossed them, barring her way.

She stomped on one’s foot and wrenched the staff out of his hands and dropped him with a single blow. The other man looked stunned as she whirled the staff around. He deflected it but she switched ends and jabbed the rounded end into his throat. He clutched his neck, dropping his staff with a loud clattering noise and Lia braced herself on the steps. She saw the wretcheds gathering around, the gardeners with spades and pruners with shears, others with brooms and rakes and young girls with polishing rags and tubs of wax. She understood it now – that the Aldermaston of Augustin did not want to see his wretcheds working, so he made them work at night. They labored and toiled so that during the daylight, he would not be bothered with looking at them. Reaching into the pouch at her waist, she withdrew the Cruciger orb and summoned its blinding light. It enveloped her like a blazing sun.

“The Blight is truly coming!” she shouted. “It strikes by Twelfth Night! Flee to Muirwood for safety. Flee this place before it comes!”

In her mind, she willed the orb to work, to guide her to a safe road where she could escape into the woods. That was her domain, her place of strength where her skills would outmatch any of theirs. The light of it was dazzling, so bright it made her wince. The spindles spun and then pointed a clear path towards a giant hedge maze.

CHAPTER TEN:

Doviur Caves

The smells and sounds of the woods were comforting, familiar, and haunting with memories. The scent of pine was strong in the air and Lia’s rushed pace prevented her from being cold. She walked with her hood down, listening for any sound that would betray an enemy. She had walked for a league at least and her feet were tired and sore, but she had endured worst before and knew her strength would last. She had to reach the port of Doviur by morning, and she decided to walk until she could smell the salty air before stopping and resting. The orb guided her, pointing the way through the tangle of trees, stumps, and fallen trunks.

A memory from the Bearden Muir flitted through her mind as she traversed the woods. She remembered the feeling of her filthy dress clinging to her skin, the grit buried underneath each fingernail, her hair a tangled mess. Those were details, but the bud of the memory was Colvin first teaching her how the Medium worked. It was the revelation that all actions in the world originated from the seeds of thought, deliberately sown and nurtured, and then the Medium maneuvered events to bring them to pass. His desire to join Garen Demont’s forces at Winterrowd had brought him Muirwood Abbey and laid him in the care of Lia as a wounded stranger. She recognized, a bit ironically, that his desire to find Ellowyn Demont had unwittingly been fulfilled as well.