The Scourge of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  Lia went to the door and tested it, but it was locked. That gave her a measure of comfort that she would be able to hide if anyone came, for the key jangling in the lock would be her warning. She set about studying the room, looking at it with her hunter’s eye. There was no food, for example. It meant Colvin did not eat there. The leather-bound chest opened to her touch and there were several folded garments within. The leather tunic she recognized instantly. There were still blood spots on it from the battle outside Muirwood. She clutched it instinctively and smelled it, squeezing the leather as if it were him. There were linen shirts beneath, and she had memories of washing them. A sturdy pair of boots, a belt with star-stud designs were seen beneath. That was all.

  Lia went to the window and pulled down the cup with the shriveled sprigs and smelled them. There was a hint of fragrance clinging to the brittle stems. She imagined Colvin holding the cup and smelling it, trying to remember what it was like to be free. Was it only a place where he slept? Where did he spend his days? What did he do to prevent the oppression from stealing his spirit?

  The Cruciger orb had brought her to the place where she would find him. She knew she would have to wait for him to return.

  A chilly sea wind came from the open window and she shut it, realizing that her long walk during the day had exhausted her and that she was very tired. The sun was beginning to sink towards the sea and she realized that other than the plums, she had not eaten much during the day. Opening her travel sack, she pulled out the apple she had saved from Muirwood and slowly pulled it free. It was firm and hard in her hand and she held it near her nose, breathing in its deep smell. She set the apple down near the cup.

  Lia waited. The sun set and the room became thick with shadows. She waited until the moon cast squares of light on the stone floor. She waited and still he did not come. She was anxious, tired, and worried. Still she waited. There was no sound except her breathing and stony silence. It was cold in the room and she pulled the cloak more tightly around her, wondering what she would say to him. What would he think when he saw her again?

  She waited.

  There was no end to the waiting. Drowsiness finally won over and she found herself huddled on the floor near the bed, dozing. She was not sure how much time passed, but the moon shifted the squares until even they were gone and nothing but shadows remained. Dozing – waking. Listening – was that a footfall somewhere? A distant laugh? Nothing – nothing but stillness. Deep stillness and smothering darkness. In the dark she began to hear whispers in her mind. The Abbey lulled her to sleep. Dream of me, it said to her. Learn of my ways. We are ancient. You are our sister.

  The rattle of a key in a lock jolted her awake. Lia blinked quickly and was through the stone portal in a moment, pushing it shut but leaving it ajar so that she could see and hear into the room.

  Torchfire illuminated the doorframe and she winced, shielding her eyes from the fierceness of the flames.

  There were voices, a mocking tone, but she could not make out the words. Then the door was shut and locked again, the keys jangling as the door was bolted. Inside the room, framed only by a single taper, stood Colvin, looking exhausted, stern, and dressed in a rich outfit of Dahomeyjan style. He leaned back against the door a moment, sighing deeply, and then shuffled forward towards the bed.

  The gleam of the taper was enough to illuminate his face. There was the scar at his eyebrow. The pucker of concentration, of barely controlled anger rumbling under the surface of his expression. He set the candle stick on the ledge by the window, next to the cup and the apple.

  She watched his eyes glance away and then slowly, his face turned back to the ledge and he stared at the apple. He blinked quickly, seeing it, his expression turning more intense, more focused. Reaching slowly, hesitantly, he extended his hand until it closed around the fruit, his expression all astonishment and shock, as if he expected it to be nothing more than smoke.

  He took the apple and brought it to his nose, smelling it deeply. His eyes were shut in intense concentration.

  “Lia?” he whispered in the blackness.

  * * *

  “Marciana once told me of something that Ovidius wrote. Happy is the one who has broken the chains which hurt the mind, and has given up worrying once and for all. It is true. I feel free at last to act as I desire to act. To be bolder with my feelings than I have been before. When the king taunts and teases me, instead of blushing, I confront him. Today he stammered with surprise and looked genuinely pleased at my rebuke. There was something in his eyes that was not there yesterday. A genuine interest instead of a duty. Even Colvin began to change his attitude towards me today. I am acting more like Lia did, with more courage and determination. We spoke for a long time and I told him how much I longed to dance. He said he did not wish to dance the way that is acceptable in Dahomey. Here every man gives his partner a kiss when the dance is done. I think that is what troubles him. I said I did not expect him to change his customs or beliefs. That seemed to satisfy him. We did not dance tonight, but I am satisfied that he will change his mind. The king dances with me often. It is but a small kiss on the cheek. There is no harm in that.”

  - Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey

  * * *

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

  A Cemetery Ring

  Lia answered Colvin’s whisper by pulling open the wall and revealing herself to the light of his taper. He stood there, staring at her, his eyes growing wider and wider. He seemed not to breathe, as if one more word would make her vanish.

  “Is this is a dream?” he said. “You are truly here, Lia? This is no conjuring from my mind? Say something. Let me hear your voice.”

  A smile spread across her mouth, one she could not withhold if she had wanted to. “What would you have me say then?” she answered, stepping into the room and leaving the stone doorway ajar.

  “How is it you are even walking?” he demanded incredulously. “Show me your hand.”

  She offered the hand where an arrow had transfixed her palm. There was a puckered scar there, but it was healing and rarely pained her.

  “Not that hand – the one with the maston scar,” he said.

  She offered the other, which was but a pink little blemish against her skin. “Now are you satisfied?”

  He stared at her with a mixture of emotions on his face. They were conflicted. She could see part of him was overjoyed at seeing her, yet there was also the look of blatant panic that she was in such a place as Dochte Abbey. He took her hand tentatively. His hand was warm, it had not succumbed to the chill of the room yet. His eyes continued to stare at her face, a battle of emotions going through his expressions, two warring sides that collided and struck and raged inside him of how he should react to her presence.

  “You are here,” he whispered again, struck with amazement.

  “I am here. I am hale. And your sister is safe.”

  Her words were like crumbs to a starving man. He reacted to them instantly, pulling her into an embrace so tight she nearly squealed with surprise and shock from its violence. His body shuddered as he clutched her, and she held him just as tightly, burying her tears against the velvet jerkin at his throat. His chin rested against her hair at first and then she felt his mouth pressed against her hair, as if reverently blessing her head. The room had been so cold and now he was there, all warmth and softness. The velvet jerkin smelled of incense smoke. So did his skin, but she could still make out his own scent, the one she remembered so well.

  His voice was just a whisper. “Several days ago there was a storm, a brutal storm that raged in the sea. The storm ended abruptly and then there was a ship. I saw it from my window. It was a massive ship that sailed towards this accursed place. I could see it from that window and when I saw it, the Medium whispered to me that you were coming.” He pulled back slightly and took her face in his hands. “I have worried for you in recent days. I have been desperate with worry. Something was happening to you. There was danger. It brooded over me like the st
orm clouds had. I have held vigil for you for several nights now, focusing my thoughts on your safety and protection.” His eyes drooped wearily. “I am so tired, Lia. I have never been this weary before. Was that your ship? Was that you…coming?”

  She beamed and smiled. “Garen Demont brought word that you were held prisoner here. We were told that they would not release you until Pareigis was set free.”

  Colvin’s eyes widened with panic. “Is she free?”

  “No, she is still prisoner. Deliberately, I think. I used the orb to help me find you. I set sail from Doviur several days ago and was caught in the storm.”

  His eyes crinkled with worry. “How are you even here, Lia? How are you standing? When I left you…how fragile and weak you were. You could not walk. Yet I see you standing before me and I marvel at your recovery.” He pulled back from her to stare at her in amazement, but his hand strayed and grasped at hers. The warmth from his fingers sent shivers down her.

  “The Abbey healed me,” Lia answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She had never felt so flustered being near him before. She savored the way he was looking at her, the attention. “Muirwood has always mended things. The Leerings there are powerful.”

  His eyes suddenly narrowed, as if she had said something that pained him. “They are, I am sure.” A blackness came across his face. “But they are not as powerful as this place.” His hand squeezed hers hard. “Lia, you cannot stay here. Of all places, this is the most dangerous for you. If they caught you here, if anyone learned that you are a maston…Lia, you do not understand the danger.”

  “I understand a great deal of the danger,” she replied. “Which is why I came to free you. There are no mastons left in Dahomey, I fear. If they would destroy me, they would kill you as well. I am grateful you have been preserved.”

  His smile was bitter. “I am preserved because of Marciana. I had heard she was bound on a ship for Dahomey. I have been in misery because of it.” He gripped her shoulders and lowered his voice more softly. “This is the place where the hetaera make their oaths. This is the place where they are trained in the Medium. The whispers at night…they are unbearable. This place is awful beyond imagining. It is a nest of serpents. Lia, the things I have heard…the rituals that exist here. You remember the Whitsunday fair? How the Aldermaston said not to watch the dancing? It happens every night here. I am forced to watch it, Lia. I am a prisoner, but this is not my cell. This is my only refuge. And even this refuge is not safe. There is a lavender who is assigned to me. She is a hetaera, Lia. Every day she wheedles at me, trying to tempt me. The Gifting you gave me before I left, I cannot tell you how much I value it. I see Dochte Abbey for what it truly is. The encounters here are no coincidence. Every person who speaks to me is trying to wear me down, to make me violate my maston oaths. Every oath. Every one of them. They do not want me dead, Lia. That would be a mercy. They want me to join them. They want me to forsake my oaths as they have. That is what they want from me. But what they would want from you is different.” His fingers pressed hard into her shoulders. “They would turn you, Lia. They would turn you into one of them. You must not stay.”

  The look in his eyes terrified her, but she strengthened her heart. “Why is it that you have not succumbed, Colvin?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. Realizing he was probably hurting her with his grip, he looked abashed and drew his hands away from her shoulders while he unclasped his shirt collar of the velvet jerkin. She noticed in the dim firelight the pattern on the fabric, the ribbed shoulders, and golden threads and intricate buttons going down the front. He unfastened several buttons and then withdrew a twine necklace with a ring. The firelight flashed on its surface and she thrilled at seeing him wearing it.

  “This little ring,” he answered her, pinching it between his fingers. “This is what saved me.” He stared into her eyes. “I have worn it since I left you. Every day I could feel it against my skin. It reminded me of you and Muirwood and the feelings of the Medium. It has helped me to focus my thoughts when everything about threatened to confuse me. The Dochte Mandar are powerful, but they cannot subvert your thoughts unless you let them. I was not sure how long I could survive in such a place as this. Your ring is the only way I have escaped succumbing.”

  A surge of gratitude and warmth filled her. She took a tentative breath. “We must get you out of here. Do you know where…do you know where they are keeping Ellowyn?”

  He shook his head. “They restrict my contact with her. The Aldermaston here – he is corrupted. I have not revealed to him that I know that. The Dochte Mandar rule. They are making everyone submit to the water ritual. There are whispers that something will happen to those who do not after Twelfth Night. It is fitting, though. Twelfth Night is the celebration of the advent of winter, of the twelve days before the darkest day of the year. Every day the sun is getting shorter and shorter. I dread the Blight will come soon after.”

  Lia nodded. “It will come that very night. Did Ellowyn deliver her message? What happened?”

  Colvin folded his arms and shook his head. “It was treated with great interest and respect at first. The Aldermaston was grave and listened patiently. Then he started to ask questions over the days that followed. He is a cunning man, Lia. He is dangerous. His questions seemed honest at first and would listen to our persuasions calmly. But every thing he asked caused doubts as to whether he believed it. For example, why was the warning given in our country and not in Dahomey? Of course he never denied that the Blight was coming. But he challenged and questioned and poked at the circumstances. I realized through the Gifting that he was trying to learn from which Abbey we had learned of it. Ellowyn mentioned an Abbey in Pry-Ree, but could not remember the name. I refused to tell him, claiming I cannot speak Pry-rian. He continues to seek the name of the Abbey in Pry-Ree. Would there was a way we could warn them.”

  “The Medium will do that,” Lia said, touching his arm confidently. “Just as the Medium sent me here. The warning has been given. Now we must find a way to get you both out of here. There are secret tunnels within these walls. I am sure one will lead to Ellowyn’s room as well. I will get Martin to help us and we will leave on the ship you saw.”

  “Martin is here?” Colvin asked, perplexed.

  “There is so much to tell you. Here, enjoy the apple while I tell you what happened and where I left your sister.”

  He gratefully accepted her idea but offered her the first bite of the apple, which she accepted. Never had an apple tasted so sweet to her. She enjoyed watching him devour the fruit, eating it slowly and savoring each bite, while she related her adventures. There was Kieran Ven and the Evnissyen of Pry-Ree and how she had learned that the Apse Veil would not take them to Dochte Abbey. She related finding Marciana in Dieyre’s castle in the Stews and watched his face turn pale with anger at what the Dochte Mandar had done to her and what Dieyre had done to Reome. She described Augustin Abbey and its treacherous Aldermaston. He coughed with surprise when she described how she had humbled him in front of his steward and thrashed his guardians. She mentioned the cave outside of Doviur where she had slept, protected by a Leering and confessed how she had thought of him and wondered where he was. As they discussed it, he said he had been wakened that night by whispers which had tortured him with thoughts of her. He had not slept since then, anxious about her and her safety. Finally she mentioned Tomas Aldermaston and the crew of the Holk which had brought her to Vezins where she had met Dieyre’s men the night before and how a lad name Jouvent had brought her the rest of the way.

  “I am amazed,” he concluded at the end of her tale. “Truly the Medium guided your steps. I will be able to sleep now, knowing that you are nearby. But I must warn you again, Lia. If you are caught, and if they learn you are a maston, they will turn you. There are Leerings in this Abbey that are ancient. There is one that I have come across. It bears the mark of the serpent – two serpents woven together like a strand. There is a Leering down in the gardens that b
ears this mark. When I touched it, it burned me. Only a woman can touch it, I was told. But in that brief touch, Lia, I saw that it guarded a doorway leading deep into the earth. It led to a chamber full of serpents. Lia, that is where they send girls who will become hetaera. The image I saw in my mind, just in that brief scalding touch, was enough to frighten me to death. If you do not have a kystrel, they will bite. It is full of bones and death. It is a place of pure fear. There is something unnatural about serpents that make us fear them instinctually. It is such a place.” His face was white. “You know that I fear enclosed places. To be buried alive in a pit of snakes that will kill you unless you accept the hetaera oaths. Lia…please…I beg of you. You must not be captured. They would put you in that place. I have feared they would put my sister there when she arrived. I could not bear it if either of you became one of them. Please, Lia. You must be careful.”

  The image of the serpent’s lair send a shiver of disgust and loathing through her. Yet it also sparked a memory. She had seen the symbol of the entwined serpents. She had seen it burning. An awful anticipation welled inside her as she realized that she would need to find that place. That it was the reason she had come to Dochte Abbey. The Medium throbbed in her heart, calming her. But it also told her not to tell Colvin.

  “I will be cautious,” she answered, smiling at him. “I want you to sleep, Colvin. I will watch over you.”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I hunger to talk to you. There is so much I have learned in this place. So much the Medium has taught me. There is no one here that I can talk to. There is no one here who knows my heart like you do.” He leaned forward. “Lia, there is something that has weighed heavily on me. It has been growing heavier and heavier. This is a dark place, but I know that I will be free from it. I long to leave these shores, to leave the shores of Comoros and find a place where such evil cannot exist. There will be a scourging. I can see it. Those who accept the ways of the Dochte Mandar will fall to the Blight. Those who support the hetaera will be killed. I know this is a place of pure darkness where the Myriad Ones roam free. Yet despite this knowledge, I still feel the Medium with me. I have remained true to my oaths. I have not surrendered to their ways.” He looked down, his face turning anguished. “I hardly know how to say this to you.”