The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 1)

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT:

Grave

As Lia walked through the blazing hive of fire, she heard her name shouted. The roar was so loud, it took a moment before realizing it was Colvin screaming it. The door in her mind slammed shut and the power of the Medium rushed back into the void behind her, vanishing into the cracked remains of the hissing boulder. As soon as the power of the Medium fled, all her strength was gone. She stumbled, trying to keep upright. Her hand bit into the charred earth, but it did not burn her.

Colvin was there, catching her. He cradled her and walked away from the crackling flames of still-burning trees. She looked up at him, amazed to see him. She tried to smile, but there was not enough strength in her mouth to twitch.

“I have you,” he said, huffing. Sweat dripped down his face, which was pink from the heat. “A little further.”

Her head dipped against his chest and she slept, still clutching the orb in her hand.

When she awoke later, still tired, the pattern of the stars revealed it was past midnight and the world was still and cold. Mist came from her mouth as she breathed. A calmness settled deep in her bones. Her arms and legs were frigid, but there was no worry at the night noises. All the world seemed contented. Turning her head, she found Colvin asleep near her, his arm pillowing his neck. His mouth was open a little, his face spattered and bruised, lips brittle with scabs. She was still exhausted, but she managed to rise and cover his body with her cloak. He had slept every night without a blanket. Though she had seen him shiver, he never complained of being cold. Nestling closer to him, but not touching him, she shut her eyes again and fell asleep with hardly a thought.

When she awoke again, it was day. Her strength had returned, so she pushed herself up on her elbow. During the night, he had returned her cloak and it was warm against her body.

Colvin was nearby, eyes open, propping his head up with one arm, studying her. His face was a mess of dried blood and purple bruises.

“Are you well, Lia?”

She nodded, swallowing. The look he gave her was tender.

“I thought the fire was the sheriff’s doing. I was so afraid I had failed you, that you had perished in those flames. But I knew it was the Medium. It felt like the Medium. You have always been strong with fire, I just did not realize you were that strong.”

Lia smiled. “Neither did I.”

“Thank you for sharing your cloak. When I woke this morning, you looked cold. You need it more than I do. I do not mind the cold.”

“Well, you shiver too,” she said, looking down.

“Strange though,” he said, rumpling a bit of her cloak that was near his hand. He took a fistful of it and smelled it. “When you emerged from the fire, there was not even the scent of smoke on you or your clothes. I still cannot smell it.”

Lia sat up, feeling awkward. From their vantage, she could see the nearby thicket. Part of it lay smoldering. “It could not harm me,” she said, looking at his hand so near that it nearly brushed her arm. She wanted to touch his hand, to squeeze it and thank him, but she dared not. “Thank you for teaching me of the Medium, Colvin. Your words saved my life last night.”

“I do not deserve any praise,” he replied, fidgeting with tufts of swamp grass. “I arrived too late to save you. You saved yourself.”

“How did you escape the sheriff’s men?”

“The same way you did. Through the Medium. I awoke after they dumped me on the stallion, trussed up. I knew you were alone and afraid. I had to go back for you. The Medium gave me strength to burst my bonds. The strength I felt, Lia. I have never felt that before, like I could crush a stone in my hand. I slew the sheriff’s men and rode back until I saw the blaze and nearly lost hope.”

She smiled shyly at him. “Not you. You never lose hope.”

“Almost,” he said.

Lia folded her arms, trying to keep from shivering. “I know why the Medium saved us. I understood it last night. It delivered the sheriff into my hands for all the mastons he and his men have murdered. The Medium demanded vengeance for their blood.”

“It does that. I have studied accounts of it before. It is not chance that it delivered them to you. Your family was probably killed by them. Remember what I taught you about the Medium, Lia. Your strength is not about who you are. Whoever your parents were, they were strong. I think they are dead. Have you asked the orb yet, to confirm it?”

“No,” she said. “I had not thought of that. Should I?”

“I do.”

“Where did I put the orb?” she asked, looking around the folds of the cloak.