by Jeff Wheeler
Find Ellowyn. She is missing. Lia pushed the thought again.
“Do you see the Aldermaston or the girl?” one of them asked. “Do you think everything is all right?”
“What is wrong?” Ellowyn whispered in Lia’s ear.
Lia raised her hand to silence the girl, focusing on the two men. She stared at them, directing her thoughts fiercely towards them. Go look for her!
The two men plucked at fruit from the garden. One looked towards the alder trees. “I do not hear them.”
“Hear what?”
“I do not hear the Aldermaston or Ellowyn. Where do you think they went?”
One spoke with a mouthful of fruit. “The vineyard. I told you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why are you worried?”
“I do not know. I just am. Let us go see where they are.”
The other grunted noncommittally.
“No, we should go see. Come on.”
“All right. Let me grab one more.”
Lia watched with growing dread each moment they lingered in the garden. Then they went out past the main ledge of the garden and walked towards the trees. Lia closed her eyes, grateful. When she opened them again, Colvin had slipped over the wall in front of her, landing in a crouch. She was relieved to see him. After fetching a pinecone, she tossed it towards him, drawing his attention to their location. He kept low and joined them in the woods.
“Colvin!” Ellowyn gushed, throwing herself at him and hugging him fiercely. She pressed her cheek against his chest, her eyes squeezed shut and the look of pure delight and relief on her face. He stared at Lia helplessly, his hands opening and clenching awkwardly, looking at her with bewilderment. Lia gave him an exasperated smile and mouthed, embrace her, as if he were the biggest idiot in the world. One of his hands patted her back gently. She was much shorter than him. She gazed up into his face adoringly. “You came for me,” she whispered. “You came, just as you promised!”
He nodded, still looking conflicted about her surge of emotions. “I promised you I would. But I could not have done it without Lia’s help.” He glanced at Lia. “Where is the Aldermaston? You did not…harm him, did you?”
Lia grinned at the question and shook her head. “No, he let her go. The daylight is fading. We must climb the mountain even in the dark. We cannot stay here.” Lia grabbed Ellowyn’s arm. “I hope you are you ready for your task. This is not the only mountain we must climb together. There is so much I have to tell you both.”
* * *
The moon was bright in the sky and Lia was exhausted. Sweat drenched her face even though the night was cold. She used every trick she had learned from Martin. Backtracking to disguise their trail. Crossing over rocks when possible to not leave a mark. Leaving false trails in another direction. When the darkness closed in, she stayed near Colvin and Ellowyn, retreating often to mask their passing as they ascended the mountains.
It was clear they were being pursued.
The glow of torches shone as pinpricks in the dark, moving and wending up the mountain pass behind them. Lia knew they would not stop. When she needed to use the orb for direction, she would shield the light between their bodies, or go inside a hollowed-out trunk of a giant redwood. It seemed that no matter what they did, the train of torches was never far behind.
Lia puffed with the exertion, weary to the bone but knowing they had to race Martin and the others back to the village where Pen-Ilyn waited with his boat. With water separating them, it would ease their pursuit. Martin would not know of their plans, though he might guess at it. She looked up at the moon and saw it ringed with frost. She could see the breath coming out of her mouth as she panted. Cold settled in around her. Fog began to form in the air, gathering in wisps.
Oh no, she thought with dread. It was starting again.
Hurrying forward, abandoning her makeshift broom, Lia caught up with Colvin and Ellowyn. It was not difficult, for Ellowyn was staggering with weariness and Colvin had a hold on her arm to keep her on her feet. He soothed her with encouragement and looked at Lia as she advanced.
“The mist,” he said flatly.
“I know,” she replied. Fear began to squirm inside her. The moon was veiled in gauzy vapors that seemed to rush in from every direction.
“I am cold,” Ellowyn whimpered.
Lia was not, so she released her cloak and covered the other girl’s shoulders with it. She gave Lia a grateful look and hugged herself.
The mist descended over the heights of the trees, weaving through the woods in every direction, concealing even the light from the torches behind them in the gloom. The woods were thick and oppressive. They still had not reached the summit yet. It would be a while before that happened still.
“How far behind are they?” Colvin wondered.
“I have tried to throw them off our trail, but nothing has worked so far. They are moving faster than we are, but are closing the distance more slowly. My tricks are giving us more time, but not much. It will be easier on the way down. We may reach the valley floor by dawn and then cross the valley by mid-day if we do not stop.”
“I need to rest,” Ellowyn said. “I can scarcely breathe.”
From behind them, the Fear Liath roared. The trio stopped at the sound. It was the same as before and it struck terror inside them. Ellowyn’s eyes were as wide as dishes and she quailed with fear. “What was that!”
Colvin stared down the mountain. “It is behind us?” he said in disbelief.
Lia understood. It was not hunting them at all. “Martin,” she whispered.
Ellowyn grabbed Colvin and buried her face against his tunic. “What is it?” she said, her voice quavering.
“A grey-rank,” he answered. “It cannot hurt us.”
Lia swallowed, her throat tightening. “But it will hurt them.”
“Keep walking,” Colvin ordered, pulling Ellowyn with him. Lia froze. “What can we do?” he demanded. “If we help them, will they help us? If the Aldermaston told them we were bound for Dahomey ultimately, why would they have followed us so swiftly if not to stop us? If they are wise, they will go back down the mountain to the safety of their Abbey. They cannot pass.”
Lia struggled with her feelings. They were her countrymen. She did not want anything to happen to them. Even Martin, who had betrayed her. She could not explain her feelings. They surged in her so strongly, she hestitated, not knowing what to do.
“Come, Lia,” Colvin said, pressing forward in a hard walk. “There is nothing you can do.”
They heard the screams.
Lia choked with the sound. The cry of pain, warning. Panic. Another roar sounded, blasting from the slope further down. A trumpet of rage and anger. More screams. Horror-filled screams. Tears burst from Lia’s eyes.
Colvin grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He squeezed her as the sounds of the night intensified, as a cry of agony was suddenly ripped short. He buried her head against his chest, covering her ears from the sound – a sound of slaughter. A sound that would haunt her the rest of her life.
He squeezed her hard and she clutched at him, weeping. His expression showed his disgust with what they had heard. The Fear Liath was master of the mountain. Silence followed. A croon of delight sounded from the stillness. It was long and loud and throbbed with triumph.
“Come,” Colvin whispered in her ear. “There is nothing we could have done. Those hunters chose to follow us. They chose to pursue. It sickens me what happened to them. Come, we must get off the mountain.”
There was no use hiding the trail now. Onward they walked, pressing up the steep slope of the mountain. Tears fell down Lia’s cheeks. She looked back, searching for the glow of a torch. Even a single torch. The fog had lifted, revealing a snowy moon once again. But there were no pinpricks of light following. Nothing but blackness behind them and the silhouettes of massive trees all around. How old were the trees, she wondered. How many deaths had they silently witnessed over the long years atop t
he mountain? A place where no woodcutter dared harvest. A place where the things of the wild reigned as kings.
First Jon Hunter.
Now Martin.
She wished there was a way to leave a Leering there, as she had with Jon. But she knew nothing about it, nor did she trust their safety where the Fear Liath made its home. She wept as they walked through the treacherous woods.
* * *
They straggled into the hamlet of Enarth just after mid-day. Ellowyn’s face was smudged with dirt and tear-tracks. She wobbled on her feet, barely able to keep upright through her exhaustion. Her hair was matted with twigs, her fine gown in tatters at the hem. Lia’s feet were throbbing, her legs sore but she did not stop. Colvin seemed unaffected, his jaw firm with determination. He did not speak as they entered the hamlet. Lia peeked at the orb which pointed the way to Pen-Ilyn and his boat. He was pacing back and forth by the small dock, rubbing his hands together. A stack of goods were already loaded and he turned on his heel and started with surprise when they appeared.
“What is this?” he said, a smile brightening his face. “You did it? Well, I ought not to be so amazed, but here you are before me. Hello, lass. We meet again.” He walked up to them, his eyes wide with excitement. “You have been in the back woods, then? Have you had any news in your travels? Do you know what happened?”
Lia was not sure whether he meant the Blight or not. “What have you heard?”
“Word from Caerdeth,” he said, waving them towards the boat. “You remember, it is the trading town further north. Word arrived for the castellan. Well, secrets do not keep for long. Especially when he raised the drawbridge. Someone smuggled the word out though, and now everyone is talking of little else.”
“What is it?” Lia pressed.
“Word came that Demont’s army has fallen. It was led into a trap by one of the earls and there was a battle. Not a survivor. They were all killed. Every last maston.”
Colvin grabbed his arm. “When did this news come?”
“Yesterday,” the boatman replied. “That was when the castellan raised the drawbridge. He is expecting a revolt, no doubt. With turmoil on the other side of the sea, he may as well expect a siege on this side. He will not be the castellan long, I fear. One of our archers will make a target of him. I will ferry you across now, but I will be coming back tonight. I have sent my family to stay with my mother until I return. I only stayed because I promised you I would. But I will not risk my hide living in Comoros now.”
Colvin’s eyes burned with anger. So many complex emotions played across his face. She understood too well some of what he was feeling. With Demont dead, everything had changed. A man he had admired and respected was gone. Also lost was his position on the Privy Council. Ellowyn’s surviving relation was dead. She was the last Demont now. And the ones who had wanted him dead would want her life as well.
“Uncle…?” Ellowyn started to ask, but Colvin shook his head at her forcefully to silence her. Why reveal too much to the boatman?
“Come now,” Pen-Ilyn said, walking towards the boat. “There is only some little sunlight left in the day, and I will be rowing hard. I know the tidings are bad. Just be grateful you were not there when all the mastons fell. I am sure it was a butchery like at Maseve. It is a dark day when mastons die.”
Ellowyn gasped, the information finally seeming to sink in.
Exhausted, they followed Pen-Ilyn into the craft, catching his hand for balance as they boarded. Not only was the boat rocking treacherously. It seemed everything else in her life was bobbing too.
* * *
“To the person who does not know where he wants to go there is no favorable wind.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER FORTY:
Escape
The three were exhausted from their flight over the mountains of Pry-Ree and slept in the boat as Pen-Ilyn braced himself against the oars and rowed. He wanted to return before dark, so he put his muscles to the labor and the boat sliced through the choppy waters. Lia wavered in and out of sleep, lulled by the motion. No sooner had she drifted off when the boatman’s voice rose over the din.
“The shore. We moved faster than I thought, though the wind was behind us. It has been a lonely trip with the three of you snoring. But I have done my duty. I am sure you are weary from your journey.”
Lia blinked awake and sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she gazed at the bend of land looming in the distance. The thatched dwelling was there somewhere, but she could not see it through the screen of trees. The little dock was a spur against the gray waters. It was empty of craft or person.
She stared at the dock, her mind in a fog of weariness and lack of sleep. Should not Edmon be there? And horses left to escort them?
Lia turned to Colvin, who was brooding, gazing at the shoreline. “I do not see anyone waiting for us. Do you?”
He shook his head. “That concerns me.”
“Bridgestow is not far away,” Lia murmured. “He could have easily gone and returned with horses. If news of Demont’s defeat reached Caerneth, it should have reached Bridgestow first. That town was loyal.”
Colvin looked back at her, his eyes narrow and distrustful. “What if he never made it there?”
A stab of worry bloomed in her stomach. It made her sick inside. “Dieyre?”
“What did he want more than anything else?” Colvin said in a low voice. “He already knew Demont was going to fall. He already knew the powers within the kingdom would shift. He knew it was happening all along. Even if he had convinced us to join his side, it was already too late.”
Lia’s hands trembled as she reached into her pouch and withdrew the Cruciger orb. Where is Edmon? she thought. Is he alive? The spindles spun and then pointed the direction of Muirwood. Where is Marciana? she queried next. The spindles pointed a different way - to the east. Away from Muirwood. Away from Bridgestow. Her hope crumpled. She had one last question for it. Where is Dieyre?
The spindles straightened, pointing directly in the path they were going.
Colvin studied her face, saw the flush in her cheeks.
“We are sailing into a trap,” Lia whispered. “Dieyre awaits us.”
The woods looked empty, but she knew it was a deception. Once they left the boat, the trap would spring.
Colvin turned back to Pen-Ilyn. “We cannot go this way. Follow the current, but keep clear of the shore.”
He looked at them, confused. “What are you saying? We are almost there.”
“We will die if you leave us there. Follow the water, along the shore.”
“But…”
“Just do it!” Colvin snapped at him. He pointed. “That way!”
Pen-Ilyn frowned and gritted his teeth, pulling even harder on the oars. He had not changed direction. The dock was getting closer.
“What are you doing?” Lia demanded. “Pen-Ilyn?” She saw the determination in his face.
His voice was dark. “You paid me a great deal to wait for you and row you back. But he will pay even more to bring you back to him. What happens to you then is not my concern.” His eyes leveled at Colvin. “If you think you can knock me down, you might be mistaken. If you stand, I will jerk the boat and you will end up in the water. Believe me, you will. I know you are a maston too and it is against your kind to murder. He did not want you dead only captured. Ah, I see them now.”
Lia looked back at the shoreline and saw the horses emerging from the trees. They came as a wall, at least fifty mounted knights lining the shore. It was easy to spot Dieyre, so loose and confident in the saddle. The men bore the standards of the Queen Dowager.
“Please,” Lia said, crossing one of the benches to get closer to Pen-Ilyn. “You do not understand what is happening. You do not know who we are.”
“I do not have to know,” he said back simply. “Simply put, I would rather not. Come no closer, lass. If you reach for your blade, I will jerk the boat. Then you will be swimming.”
Lia clenched her teeth. “If he betrayed us, he will betray you as well. He promised you a reward, but did he pay it? Did he trust you enough? Please, Pen-Ilyn. I am Pry-rian, as you are. So is she. You cannot betray your own blood.”
He snorted, but he did not stop pulling the oars. “I am not an honest man. I help people avoid the taxes. I will ask for my coin before we berth. But if your knight tries to stop me, I will swear you will…”
Lia lunged, smashing the heel of her palm into his nose. Blood spurted as he flailed backwards. He choked and moaned and she jammed her elbow into his gut and wrenched the oars away from him. Colvin was stumbling past Ellowyn to help and she thrust the oars at him.
Pen-Ilyn wailed with pain, unable to speak through the blood. He tried to sit up, but Lia shoved him down again. “If you try anything else, it will be you with the fishes,” she threatened. “Then you can swim back to Pry-Ree. Row westward, Colvin. Keep going west. They will follow us along the coast, but once we reach the Bearden Muir, their horses will be a disadvantage to them and the boat a help to us. There are waterways that criss-cross the swamp.”
The look adoration and gratitude Colvin gave her nearly made her blush. She reached for her bow and pulled in an arrow from her quiver. She stood up to her full height on the swooning boat and looked at the Earl of Dieyre who watched them intently. Raising the bowstock, she let the arrow fly at him.
It stuck in the earth right in front of him. A warning. As Colvin pulled on the oars and shifted the direction of the boat westward, she remained standing, the bow held in defiance. Dieyre did not move. He only watched. But she knew he would hunt them.
* * *