The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 3)

“I do.”

Dieyre leaned closer, his arms still folded. “Is it too late for me to switch sides again?”

It made her stomach twist with rage and anger. “I despise you, Dieyre.”

He glanced at the door and then at her. “I can live with your scorn, Lia. Truth be told, I have a fleet of mercenaries ready to sail to Comoros and invade in the king’s name. I was intending to bring you with me. This is not your kingdom. This is not your land. I could use a hunter in my service. Especially one as talented as you. I need your help to find Ciana because I know she will not submit to the water rite and I wish to be on the ships when they leave. Whoever will not submit will be executed. It begins tonight. Even you, if you do not submit, they will kill you. Comoros is the last kingdom to fall. We have mercenaries and Dochte Mandar in the ships. Demont is already murdered. There is only Forshee and the mastons left to defend, and we outnumber them. They will not stand against the fear. The king wants Forshee’s head on a pike, for he took his betrothed and ran away with her. It has all happened according to Pareigis’ plan. Yet despite all these advantages, I have a nagging feeling inside me that you may just win. I have never met anyone as persistant as you. As determined as you. I can get you on my boat and bring you to Comoros. If you help me find Ciana, I will help you save Forshee.”

There was the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Dieyre glanced towards the open door and then back at her. “What say you? Will we help each other?”

Lia pushed herself up and glared at him defiantly. “I can never trust you, Dieyre. I will get free without your help.”

“I highly doubt it, Lia,” Dieyre said, glancing again at the door. “I know what they will do to those who will not take the water rite. They will kill you tonight. Right now in fact. Let me help you.”

Lia shook her head. “If my work is finished, then it does not matter if I die.”

His face twisted with frustration. “You are too stubborn, girl.”

“I know who you serve,” Lia said tautly. “I know who she really is. You are a puppet.”

Dieyre’s eyes blazed with anger and his face flushed with emotion. He grabbed her arm and hoisted her off the bed. His gaze was like fire. “But you resisted her!” he hissed in a whisper. “Show me how! I did not believe it could be done, not after you have first surrendered. You broke her spell on that mute slave. Break her chains on me!”

Lia saw the panic in his eyes. It was the look of a drowning man who had long abandoned flailing in the water. “I cannot break the chains you forged against yourself,” she answered. “She snared you long ago in the form of a girl you desired. She lulled you with false promises. But in the end, she betrays us all. As she will betray you. I cannot stop that, Dieyre. And I cannot break your chains any more than I can make you an honorable man. I cannot undo all of the choices you have made.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as the Aldermaston returned, his nose purple and his face still sticky with blood. His eyes were murderous as he pointed to Lia.

“Take her above and let her join the others doomed to die.”

Dieyre’s expression hardened. “What if she submits to the water rite?” he asked.

The Aldermaston’s expression was mottled with hatred. “She had her chance already. Take her.”

* * *

Lia’s wrists were chained again in irons and she was dragged up the steps, exhausted. When she reached the outer doors, she felt the cool breeze but the air was sharp with a burning smell. Even though the sun had set, the sky was illuminated by fire. As Lia struggled to see, she saw a crowd of fifty or more, forced to kneel in the turf. They were surrounded by Dochte Mandar who wore the kystrels openly on top of their cassocks. Their faces were striped with the twists and insignias of tattoos. Some of the prisoners were children.

Lia was forced to kneel amidst the other prisoners. The faces around her were drawn and pinched with fear and dread. Many were whimpering. Some were crazed with the anticipation of death. The firelight was coming from the wall of the Abbey. It was not a bonfire, but a furnace-like opening that gushed with violent flames – like a giant hearth large and wide enough to fit twelve people. She sensed the Leering in the back of it, summoning fire from some nether world in a roar and rush that made it seem like a living thing.

The Aldermaston’s voice rose over the noise. “You are condemned to die this night because you have refused to submit to the water rite. You have been warned and forewarned that this would happen. Some of you cling to the mistaken belief that the Medium will save you. It will not. There is a new order for worshipping the Medium now. The order of the mastons has ended. In every realm, in every kingdom, across every land the Abbeys will burn this night.”