The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 3)

Her stomach wrenched with a crushing feeling of longing when she realized that Colvin was so near. Would she see him on the morrow? Would it be possible to get close enough to see him? The thought sent another spasm through her, twisting her heart cruelly. She was so thankful to have the Cruciger orb and how it would help her find them. Would the next evening be spent with him? Would she be able to tell him who she really was? She realized that thinking of him would make sleep impossible. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced away thoughts of the new day. Sleep – she desperately needed to sleep.

The pallet was comfortable, the smells so soothing, that she drifted off to sleep, remembering vividly the Aldermaston’s kitchen at Muirwood. She dreamed of the night of the Great Storm, the night when Colvin had been brought there by Seth, bleeding and unconscious. A knock at the door had announced the arrival. A fitful knocking. A persistent knocking.

“Get thee gone, we are closed!” Huette hissed through the door. “There is no cider here. Get thee gone!”

The voice answering was gruff and heavily accented – the accent of her native country. “Open thy door. We serve the earl of Dieyre.”

Lia’s blood went cold and she sat up instantly.

“Go thy way!” one of the patrons roared from the loft. “We care not!” Mutters of assent came from others.

The knocking turned louder. Lia was about to warn her, when Huette lifted the crossbar and opened the door a small way. “I do not care who thy master is!” she railed. “Thou art foreigners and I shall hail the…”

She was flung backwards as the knight shoved past her to enter. Four men, wearing Dieyre’s colors. Recognizing their tunics made her stomach clench with dread. She did not know any of them, but their arrogance and pride would have announced them as Dieyre’s men without any livery.

“Hold thy tongue, woman,” one of them said. “Rail not against us.” Their eyes searched across the room, looking at the empty tables and the curtains up in the loft. Each gripped a sword hilt menacingly. Four men, alert and angry.

Another man stepped forward, looking at Jouvent. “Lad, here is a coin. Is there a young lass here with golden hair? She arrived in the Holk before twilight. She has hair like flax or gold and wavy with frets. The earl will pay handsomely if she is found. Dost thou know where she is, lad? Dost thou?”

“It be rude to accost us thus,” Huette said with fury. “Thou art not welcome here. Take thy crow coins and fly with them. Buy cider to quench your thirst. Be gone!”

Jouvent slowly backed away from them, towards the front door. He did not look at Lia once. “Aye,” he said slowly. “I have seen the lass.”

“Have you now?” said the knight, walking towards him firmly.

Jouvent backed away even faster. “I shall tell thee what I know. Give me thy coin first, to help me mother.” He looked ready to run. Lia saw the fifth knight enter from outside. Jouvent saw him too late and the man’s hand clamped down hard on his shoulder.

The boy struggled suddenly, wriggling like he was made of nothing but slippery eels, but the knight clenched hard and steadied him.

“If thou hurts him,” Huette warned angrily, seizing the knight by the collar, but he shoved her back.

“Lia,” the new arrival said in her native language. His voice carried through the inn. “We know you are here. You were foolish to stay in one place so long. There are five of us, girl and Dieyre has already warned us what you are capable of. He does not wish you any harm. He only seeks to speak with you. Come with us and then you will be at liberty. I give you my word, Lia.” He squeezed Jouvent’s arm so hard the boy yelped with pain.

Lia stood fully in the corner where she was concealed. Already Huette and Jouvent had sacrificed for her. “I am reassured by your promises,” Lia said tartly. “I know full well the earl of Dieyre is a man of his word. When it suits him.”

The five turned and faced her. They each wore chain hauberks, covered by the tunics of their master, as well as black velvet capes. The one holding Jouvent leered at her. “Well, it is true. But he informs us that you were wounded severely not long ago. That your hand might still be mending and your leg. You seem hale to me, though. As I said, he only wishes to speak with you.”

“I come willingly,” Lia answered, sighing, and approached them. They seemed to watch her warily. She looked at each of their faces, at their smug presumption that any one of them could outmatch her. They were servants of the best swordsman in seven kingdoms, so they had a reputation at least to uphold.