The Blight of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  The Aldermaston looked wary. “I ask for one term.”

  “What is that?” The Earl had a smug look on his face.

  “A safe conduct. To anyone who wishes to leave the Abbey. Anyone – learner or wretched. If the Queen Dowager seeks to make an example, let her limit it of those who do defy her. But if I am right, the Abbey will defend us as it did when the kishion struck. Even if there are only a handful of us remaining, let that be your witness that the Medium is on our side.”

  The Earl of Dieyre shrugged. “I will personally vouchsafe their safety, upon my honor. The gates are made of iron. The walls are made of simple stone. It is beautiful and impressive. But it is not sacred or guarded by anything more mysterious than generations of lies. I have given you a chance to see reason.”

  “Very well. Please present my terms to the Queen Dowager straight away. Any who leave the Abbey grounds are no longer under my protection. But I will hold you accountable, personally, for their safety.”

  “You are a fool, Aldermaston. But I think you are bluffing. At dawn we will see who is right.”

  “We will indeed. My hunter will escort you to the postern gate.”

  * * *

  Lia said nothing to the Earl of Dieyre as they walked, and he said nothing to her until they reached the gate. The postern was away from the main gate, one of the few other walled entrances to the grounds, a small iron door that provided another means of exiting the grounds.

  “If you killed the kishion, as I think you did, then I am amazed at your resourcefulness.” He gave her a nod of respect. “My offer still stands, even though the bruises on your cheek have not fully faded.” With a finger, he caressed the skin of her cheekbone. “Come with me and you will not want for opportunities.”

  Lia nodded to the door man to unlock it. “I believe we already had that conversation,” she replied.

  “Very well, then do me the honor of passing on a word to Marciana.”

  Lia breathed heavily. “It is time for you go, my lord.”

  “You are a harsh strumpet, but I like you.” He looked her sharply in the eyes. “Tell her that she owes me a dance around the maypole tonight. I will be waiting for her. If she comes, her brother lives. If she does not, I cannot keep that promise. I do it for her sake, not for his. You can tell I despise him. Send her my message.” He reached into a pouch at his waist and withdrew a fistful of gleaming coins to give her. Once, long ago, a man had offered her coins for her help.

  She refused to take it. “Goodbye, my lord.”

  He looked at her warily, a confused smile on his mouth. He shrugged and followed the doorman into the inner wall. Then he paused and without looking back, he said, “We know of the tunnels beneath the Abbey.” And then he was gone and the doorman shut and locked the gate behind him.

  There was an oppressive pall in her heart that contrasted with the gleaming blue sky and the smell of fresh flowers on the grounds. As she walked back towards the manor house, she fished the ring out of her bodice and squeezed its edges until it hurt. Every word the Queen Dowager and Dieyre said was sopping with doubt and menace. They rattled her soul, yet still she believed in the Medium’s power. She had experienced it so vividly throughout her life, that she could not deny its reality. Yet Dieyre’s warning cast little shards of doubt into her heart. She tried to crush them, but still they poked and stabbed her.

  When Colvin and Ellowyn had first arrived, the Aldermaston told her that the time would come when she would need to use the Cruciger orb to find a safehaven for them. She knew that they would leave that night, under the cover of darkness. Only in the dark would they be able to find their way past the wall of Pareigis’ men. That was the only thing she could think of. But what if Dieyre was right? What if they had a way to release the Blight on Muirwood and it would no longer be able to defend itself? There was so much she did not know. There was so much confusion. Glancing around herself as she walked, she saw the frantic scurrying of wretcheds and learners alike. So many had overheard the altercation at the gates. Rumors would be flying to every corner of the Abbey. Doubts and more doubts.

  She reached the manor house and found the Aldermaston conversing with Colvin in the hall. “Yes, enough provisions for several days. See Pasqua, she will prepare them for you. I must give other instructions. If you need any additional supplies, see my steward. There is much to do still.”

  He gripped Colvin’s arm to steer him away, but the Earl stopped him. “You are wise, as Lia says. I trust your judgment in this and I am grateful you did not betray us.”

  The Aldermaston nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes, be gone. I must speak to Lia now. Come, child.”

  Colvin glanced at her, his expression concerned but hopeful, then left.

  Lia approached him worriedly.

  “Is Dieyre gone?” he asked in his whisper-like voice.

  Lia nodded. “He gave me a warning…”

  He hushed her with his fingers. “Of course he did. Speak no more of it. For a moment, I thought my plan would be ruined, that he would never leave.”

  “Your plan?” Lia asked, a little dazed.

  “Oh yes, Lia. And because the Medium is truly with us, I received confirmation of it this very morning.”

  Lia was excited. “Is Garen Demont coming?”

  The Aldermaston smirked. “No, the Earl of Dieyre was well-informed on that point. He is leagues away, heading into a conflict against a superior force. He is betrayed on all sides.”

  Lia gulped. “But I thought you said…”

  He hushed her again and turned and opened the door, beckoning her to follow him. “Yes, the Queen Dowager is well informed and they laid their trap very deftly. I commend them for their subtlety. But as we learn in the tomes, be wise as serpents yet harmless as doves. They have managed to discover and keep watch over many of our secret tunnels. But not all of them. Not all of them.”

  He motioned towards the window seat.

  Martin sat there, arms folded smugly, his teeth showing through his beard in a fierce grin. “By Cheshu, lass. It is good to see you safe.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR:

  The Wretched of Pry-Ree

  With a surge of relief and a half-choked sob, Lia rushed to Martin and hugged him. His face was smudged with dirt, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep but still alert. Some of Pasqua’s crumbs were stuck in his beard, but he managed to shoo her back, scowling at her affection yet his gaze was gentle and warm.

  “That is enough, lass, stop smothering me. You think I had died on my journey? But I am not careless and evaded the Dowager’s net. Had to wait most of yesterday to slip past them at nightfall, but it was dark and they are drenched. The Aldermaston said you did well enough in my absence. I suppose you learned something from me after all.”

  Lia took his dirty hands with hers and squeezed them. “I learned everything from you. Where have you been?”

  “Roundabout,” he replied. “A hard journey. There is much that has happened in the wide world. I have already told the Aldermaston. We will be parting again soon, but at least you know your own strength now.”

  She gazed back at the Aldermaston, who nodded slowly.

  “You noticed me speaking with the Earl of Forshee just now,” the Aldermaston said. “Martin brought ill tidings. Two Abbeys have fallen in the last fortnight. Burned by fire.”

  Lia felt stricken. “Which?” she whispered.

  “Dorset Abbey in Caspur’s domain. And Sempringfall Abbey to the east.”

  “Sempringfall!” Lia gasped. “That was Ellowyn’s…”

  “Indeed,” the Aldermaston said. “Garen Demont is marching northwards with an army to confront the Earl of Caspur’s forces. Which is why the Queen Dowager is combining her allies here. Martin will take Ellowyn and the others into the Bearden Muir tonight. That will give them a strong lead when Pareigis comes calling in the morning.”

  Lia was confused, but she still clutched at Martin’s hands as she stared at the Aldermaston. “I want to go. You sai
d I would be the one to take them.”

  He shook his head. “I need you here, child.”

  “But I have the orb,” she insisted. “Where is Martin going to take them?”

  “He has not told me, nor will he. He is the only one who knows, and that is for the best right now. I can claim honestly to the Queen Dowager that I do not know where they are.”

  “It is for the best, lass,” Martin said, freeing one of his hands and patting hers. “The Aldermaston needs you here.”

  She bit her lip, feeling the sudden weight of hopelessness at the thought of Colvin leaving Muirwood without her. She had to see him before he went. How awkward it would be to part without bidding him goodbye. As much as it tortured her to see him ever since their moments together in the orchard, it would even more unendurable not to see him.

  She looked at the Aldermaston again who slowly sunk into his chair, his face a mask of twisted pain. She had noticed it growing more severe. “You are sick,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes tightly, fighting against a hidden pain. “Not sick, Lia. I am dying. That is why I need you to stay.”

  It was as if he had slapped her hard across the face. “But you cannot be,” she murmured.

  “Oh, I am old enough to recognize the limits of my humanity. It may not happen for a while yet. But it will certainly happen. Maybe even tomorrow,” he added with a hushed voice.

  Lia left Martin’s side and approached the Aldermaston. “What is it that ails you?”

  “I am old, Lia,” he replied with a wincing smile. “I knew this time would come. My keenest desire is the protection of Muirwood, the records guarded in the cloister, and everyone who shelters here. While I am within the boundaries of the Abbey, the defenses will work. It takes great desire and concentration to maintain them. I need…your strength. Especially if the Queen Dowager storms the gates on the morrow. Your strength, coupled with mine, should be enough. If it is not, then I need you to lead the others to safety. Will you do that for me?”

  Tears stung her eyes.

  “Do not cry, Lia. I knew this day would come. It may not be tomorrow. But it is helpful to be prepared regardless. As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.”

  The hot tears trickled down her cheeks. All her life, she had known the Aldermaston. She had not even known his real name until Pareigis spoke it that morning. In his gray cassock and robes, he seemed the embodiment of Muirwood itself – built from stone, permanent. His cropped beard and thinning hair were white still, but his brows had always been dark, his eyes even darker and full of strength and will. Even now as he struggled without complaining against the pain that caused him much sufferering, his eyes were fierce and determined, his mouth pressed firmly into a perpetual scowl. Much like Martin’s.

  “What can I do?” Lia whispered.

  He looked at her seriously. “You must pass the maston test. Tonight.”

  Again it felt as if he had struck her. She looked at him in shock, almost unable to speak. “Why do you think I will be able to pass it when others more learned than me have not?”

  His frown was pinched for a moment into a smile. “Because your thoughts are stronger. I know that you have long suspected your ancestry, at least on one side, is Pry-rian. I have been an Aldermaston for many years and have hosted many visitors from different kingdoms. I once met one of the rulers of Pry-Ree, back when a truce had been declared between our realms. This was before your birth. He was a king-maston and honored Muirwood with a visit during his journey to Comoros to treat with our lords. I asked him how long he had worn the chaen and he surprised me with his answer. It was a tradition of his Family, he said, to wear it by the age of fifteen. His own grandfather had passed the maston test at fourteen. His grandfather was a great leader and unified some of the warring factions within his realm and became the high king of Pry-Ree. He was exceptionally gifted in the Medium. His grandson, the one I had the pleasure of meeting, had passed the test himself at a young age.”

  Lia’s heart buzzed with desire. “This king-maston that you met. Was he related to Ellowyn’s family?”

  The Aldermaston nodded, his expression curiously vague. “Very much. He married Ellowyn’s mother while she was in exile in Dahomey because of a truce he had made with Sevrin Demont years before. A truce which he honored, even though Demont was murdered, his lands forfeited, and his body brutally mutilated. Those were dark days. The daughter became a woman and he honored his promise to her father, even though she brought him nothing by means of wealth and certainly nothing by reputation. Ellowyn was the result of their marriage. The mother died during the birthing. This noble prince was so bereft, though he loved the child.”

  Lia had heard this story before. “Do you think...?” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Do you think I am from that family somehow?” She was desperate to believe it.

  “It is possible,” he replied. “I have wondered what signs of your heritage would emerge as you got older. It was last year when the Medium opened up in you as it never had before. Back when you left Muirwood. The old king, you remember, was the one who crushed Pry-Ree. It was no accident that you were at Winterrowd. I feel that strongly.” He flinched again, biting back his words from the pain. “It is no accident that you are here now to protect an heir of Pry-Ree.”

  She looked down at her muddy shoes, exhausted but excited. “Did this high king have any close relations? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “He did indeed. He was survived by a younger brother who became high king on his death. He was rebellious as a child. He never was a maston himself and so the Medium did not help him. He was captured by the old king and executed.”

  “Did he have any children?” Lia asked.

  “It was common knowledge that he fathered many children, within and without of wedlock.”

  Lia bit her lip, struggling with her surging feelings. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

  “When Almaguer first visited?” he asked, wincing as new stabs of pain afflicted him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You showed a penchant for the Medium, but nothing more than that. It was after you returned from the Bearden Muir that you told me the orb spoke to you in Pry-rian. When you aided me healing Astrid, the Medium spoke to me very clearly. It was time for you to take the test.”

  Lia nodded dumbly, amazed at what she had learned.

  The Aldermaston’s eyes flashed. “There is a mystery here, Lia. You see, there are no wretcheds in Pry-Ree.”

  She looked at him sharply then glanced at Martin, who nodded. “It is true, lass, what the Aldermaston tells you. If a child is born out of wedlock, they have the same rights of inheritance as a natural born child. We feel it a great cruelty to abandon any child.” His voice choked for a moment with strong emotions. He clenched his teeth again, grimacing, then continued. “If one is abandoned, there is always a family willing to claim the babe. Always. Even total strangers. There is no practice of abandoning a child in the gutters of an Abbey. It does not happen.”

  A surge of feelings went through her. She looked at the Aldermaston seriously. “So you are saying it is a rare thing for me to be here. A wretched from Pry-Ree?”

  He nodded slowly. “Indeed, it is rare but not impossible. You were born when Pry-Ree fell. The children of the ruling Family were gathered up, Ellowyn for example. Get some rest now, Lia. You must be fresh if you are to face the test tonight. It will not be easy. Martin will slip away with the others while we are inside the Abbey. Before dawn, you will be a maston.”

  Lia swallowed and thought about what she had learned. “Do you truly think so?”

  The Aldermaston winced again, but he did not gasp or quail. His knuckles were white as he gripped the table. “Passing the test requires a good memory. You must be prepared to remember what you learn inside. I cannot help. I can only teach you. You may ask no questions once we are inside. But if I know anything about you, Lia – you do have a good memory. You always have.”<
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  She smiled at him and then started for the door. As she touched the handle, she stopped and glanced back. “Is the Blight coming, Aldermaston?”

  His face was grave. “Only the Abbeys hold it at bay, child.”

  “If Muirwood falls, it will come?”

  He nodded slowly. “When you become a maston, you will be hunted. Those like the Queen Dowager will seek your blood.”

  She gave him a small smile. “I think you suspected that happening when you called me to be a hunter.”

  “Wise…for one so young,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She gave the Aldermaston a look of sympathy. “I am glad to be taking the test at Muirwood. It is my Abbey. I will defend her.”

  * * *

  “Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves up when taken little by little. Many tyrants have sat on a throne, and those whom no man would think on, have worn crowns.”

  - Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE:

  Duerden’s Kiss

  It was a fitful sleep full of strange whimsical dreams. Lia awoke gradually, feeling more rested than she deserved considering the punishment she had given her body in recent days. As she left Pasqua’s bedchamber and exited the manor house, there was the feeling of fog in the air, though nothing obstructed her vision. The sunlight came down at an angle, indicating the approaching dusk. The air was thick and humid, each breath heavier than normal. From the corner of her eye, she saw the majestic Abbey and it seemed to whisper to her, to beckon her inside to learn its secrets. For a moment, it seemed alive, staring at her.