The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 3)

“Lia,” Colvin said huskily.

She blinked and rushed to the bars separating them, her heart surging with fire to see him again. Glancing over his shoulder, she saw Dieyre, hand on his hilt. He had a smirk on his face that was infuriating.

Colvin clasped his hands around the bars. “Why did you tell them?” he said sharply, his face flushed with emotions. “Why?”

“Because she is a fool,” Dieyre answered, pacing the room languidly. “We already knew it was her at Winterrowd. The cloak and hood were a disguise, but the hair is remarkable. Many saw it. Old villagers saw her roaming the battlefield afterwards. Even some children. It was a girl they had seen.”

Colvin’s hands clenched tightly around the bars, his head bowing slightly. “Why, Lia?” he begged her. His hands slid down the bars until they rested on hers.

I cannot tell you why, she answered with her eyes. She longed to stroke his hair and whisper that it would be all right. To trust her. She was following the Medium’s will. She knew her path had destined her to the serpent Leering.

Her voice was firm and purposeful. “You cannot stay,” she said. “The Blight is coming by Twelfth Night. You must go from here. You must all leave Dochte Abbey before Twelfth Night.”

Colvin raised his head. “I cannot leave you here,” he said in a strangled voice. “Do not ask that of me.”

“Oh please,” Dieyre said plaintively. “Just kiss the girl and be done with it, Forshee!”

Something was pressed into her hand just an instant before Colvin shoved away from the bars and whirled to face Dieyre. Lia nearly dropped it, but she saw the glint of metal and snatched it before Dieyre could see.

Dieyre gazed at Colvin with contempt. “Ah, the fury awakens! You are so easy to goad, Forshee. I have the weapon here, not you. What do you intend to do, glower me to death?”

“You will be silent,” Colvin said tightly.

“For the love of beauty, man, act like one! I despise you for your timidity.” Dieyre chuckled mercilessly. “What good is your vaunted self control? When there is something I fancy, I take it. No harm has ever come to me. No black cloud or rain shadow. You are a fool. You crave this girl. Why not take her? I will not stop you.”

“If you utter another word,” Colvin said with raw fury, “You will regret it. Do you understand me, Dieyre? By the Medium’s power, say nothing more or you will be cursed.” Colvin’s hand lifted to the maston sign. “Another word while in this cell, and you will never speak again. Do you doubt the Medium’s power? Then test it. Utter a word and you will see that you cannot.” There was a blinding intensity that seemed to shake Dieyre to the core of his soul. He stared at Colvin sharply, his eyes mocking. But would he speak? Would he test Colvin’s power?

The two men stared at each other balefully. Colvin waited for the other to speak, to challenge his claim. But Dieyre said nothing. He looked at Colvin and then at Lia. A little curl came to his lip, part sneer, part snarl.

Colvin turned around then came back to Lia’s cell door. He gripped her hands through the bars. “I will hold vigil for you tonight.” His hands were trembling. “I will hold vigil and I will be there when the ordeal is over. I will not leave while you are down there. You can do it, Lia. I know you can.” He reached through the bars and cupped the side of her face, his fingers meeting strands of her hair. His face blanched.

“You smell of cider,” he whispered, his eyes widening in alarm. He seemed to notice the splotches on her skin, the stiffness in her hair as the cider dried. His expression turned to horror.

Lia looked into his eyes. “I will be all right,” she whispered. “Trust the Medium. Trust what it tells you to do.”

“Lia…” he gasped, his face twisting with conflict.

A new voice entered the dungeon. “It is time for the ordeal,” the Aldermaston said. “I would have the two of you leave. I must speak with the accused and make her ready.”

Lia looked over Colvin’s shoulder and saw the Aldermaston wearing ceremonial robes. She clutched something metal in her hand, hidden. Colvin stared at her, his eyes piercing her with his worry.

“I will not fail,” she promised him.

Colvin and Dieyre left the sweltering room. Lia faced the Aldermaston as he approached, watching as the Dochte Mandar filled the room behind him. There were so many, her heart throbbed with despair.

The eyes of the Dochte Mandar began to glow. Instantly Lia was seized by doubts and fears, whispers of worry and shudderings deep within her soul. The Aldermaston stared at her, cunningly, appraising her appearance.