The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 3)

As she entered, she caught sight of a large desk nearby and on it, an open tome. There were scriving tools around it and small shavings of aurichalcum. It drew her there, or was it flame in the candle next to it that shimmered off the gleaming surface. She approached and a feeling of envy struck her next, seeing the words etched on the tome but not able to understand them. It was her place to be studying – it had always been her wish to read. Lia stared at the tome, feeling a surge of resentment threaten to overwhelm her. It was a violent feeling, one that bubbled up inside her with great force and power. She was envious of Hillel and the time she had been granted to spend with Colvin. The wood of the desk was highly polished, the work of a master artisan. The tiles on the floor were shiny and clean. All her life she had lived in an Abbey kitchen, instead of the palace she deserved. The envy twisted darkly into resentment.

Why were these feelings so strong? She had not given her upbringing much thought recently. She had never regretted being raised at Muirwood. It was leaving the Abbey that had made her miss it most. Why the envy now? Why the dark thoughts to brood on?

Almost to answer the impression, she felt the Medium warn her – because the thoughts were not coming from inside her. The feelings came from outside herself.

Lia turned and saw a set of glowing eyes approaching. Then another. Then yet another. There were six in the room, dressed in black cloaks and wearing the black cassocks she had encountered previously. Her heart shrank. The Dochte Mandar had found her.

Fear engulfed her, a sick tide of fear that swamped her senses, black as night and terrible as the creature in the mountains of Pry-Ree she had faced. They had been waiting for her to return.

Lia fled. She rushed to the window balcony, knowing she had precious moments to get outside. They would have soldiers waiting for her below, she knew that now. But better to face soldiers with steel and fist than struggle against the compelling emotions which the Dochte Mandar attacked her with. The night breeze was caressing, but her heart was too frantic to care. She planted her hands on the edge and nearly vaulted it when she realized to her horror that the stones of the stairwell were gone. There was nothing but the naked face of the tower wall below.

In a wild moment of pure panic, Lia wondered if she should jump over the ledge and fall. Where were the steps? The question made her notice the Leering – the shallow indentation in the stone floor in the sculpted shape of two entwining serpents. It was the hetaera’s tower. She realized that her previous trips had not gone undetected at all. The trap was left open invitingly.

Martin! He would be trapped inside the Abbey too. They were all trapped.

The glowing eyes formed a wall by the balcony. The man in the middle spoke, his voice thick with the Dahomeyjan accent.

“Welcome, child. Have you received the water rite?” She recognized his voice from the day before as she and Jouvent had been met.

She struggled against the flood of feelings, but she was no match for six of them.

* * *

They escorted Lia down the inner well of the tower, three in front and three behind her. The only other way down was a plunge down the center of the shaft. Torches burned in brackets on the walls. The wrought ironwork of the torches were shaped into coiling serpents, whose mouths breathed out the flames. Lia shuddered. The air was cloying with the smell of incense. She remembered it from Augustin Abbey. The smell lingered in the air, thick and heavy with its aromatic spice.

When they reached the base of the tower, it ended at an enormous wooden door, which they opened and proceeded to march her down the corridor.

“Cover your hair,” one of them ordered her, adding a flex of the Medium to the command that made it horribly compelling. She complied and raised her hood.

She was terrified. Her mind refused to work, as if the Dochte Mandar were shrouding her thoughts with such terrors that she could not focus on anything, not the path they walked, the number of doors they had passed. She did not know how deep she was in the Abbey. It was elegantly crafted, with beautiful velvet draperies and ancient tapestries. There were pedestals and gold-etching everywhere, filling her eyes with the extravagance of the expense.

They ended the journey at a door and the leading man knocked on it.

Lia prepared to meet the Aldermaston of Dochte. She tried to steel herself, but she could not stop trembling. Her heart ached with despair. Would Martin be able to escape? Would he come for her? Or were the Dochte Mandar truly waiting for him as well?

The door opened, but Lia could not see inside yet, for the wall of black cloaks covered it.

“We have her.”

It was Dieyre’s voice. “Leave her with me.”