The Banished of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  “My lady, a grey rank is worse than a bear. In Pry-Ree, they are called the Fear Liath. They prey on the mind as well as the flesh. It is possible to cross the pass if you start at sunrise and make it through while there is daylight. The risk is being caught on the other side after dusk. These things move with wicked speed.”

  “We know,” Maia said, her heart cringing with the memories.

  He stared at her, slack-jawed.

  “We faced one already,” Maia said. “It sounds like the best route to avoid the sentries, so we must take it.”

  “Lady Maia,” Jon Tayt said, stepping near her. His eyes were earnest. “I have faced nearly every beast or creature that roams the woods. I fear very little, not storms or shadows or even hulking bears. But I do dread the Fear Liath, and I cannot protect you from one. Neither can he.”

  “It is as you said, we will travel during the day and cross the mountains before dusk.”

  “It is a hard journey, my lady.”

  “I am used to hard journeys. That is our road. We must avoid Dahomey’s army.”

  An amused smile came over Jon Tayt’s mouth. “Of course. But when I ready for a trip, I plan for the worst. The worst is the Fear Liath, but there are other dangers. In mountains such as these, there are flash storms. It can be sunny and cheerful one moment and then, with no warning, a storm can come in from the other side, dropping a mountain of snow in short order. Or the wind can be especially fierce. Crossing that pass is not the same every day. Any of these hindrances may delay us enough . . .”

  “We must take the risk,” Maia said, frowning with determination. She pushed strands of dark damp hair over her ear and folded her arms.

  His forehead wrinkled in concern. “If we get caught in the mountains at night, this thing will hunt us and kill us. I would advise that we choose another little-used pass. We may need to fight past sentries, but I would prefer that to the risk of facing a Fear Liath.”

  Maia glanced at the kishion. His eyes were wary, but he nodded at her. Strangely, she knew what he was thinking.

  “The Fear Liath will not delay us,” Maia said. “I can send it away.”

  Jon Tayt sighed. “I advise that we are taking unnecessary risks. But I am only your guide. You pick the trail.”

  “Thank you. There may be no need to use my magic at all. We may cross the mountain in daylight and be done with it. We leave in the morning.”

  “Very well. Come, Argus.” He clapped his leg and the boarhound rose from Maia’s feet and trotted to his side.

  After they left the room, Maia listened to the heavy sound of the hunter’s boot steps move down the hall and then clomp down the steps. As the sounds started to fade, she folded her arms and stared at the kishion.

  “Do not harm him when this is done,” she said.

  A twitch of a smile came and faded. “I knew you would insist on that,” he replied gruffly, shaking his head. “You trust men too easily.”

  She looked him level in the eye. “No, not really. I do not trust that you will not harm him unless you promise me that you will not. Promise me.”

  “I make no such promises,” the kishion replied, anger reaching his eyes. “I would kill the dog first. He is the more dangerous of the two.”

  She gritted her teeth. “He has been a help to us.”

  “I do not argue that. But he knows who you are. He knows much he is not saying.”

  “Do not harm him, kishion,” she warned.

  He took a step closer to her, his face hardening. “I will do what is in your best interest, my lady. Whether or not you see it thus.” His eyes narrowed coldly. “While we are threatening and warning each other, I will add my own. Say nothing to him about me. He made his own choices. I made mine when I agreed to protect you. Now get some rest while you have a bed. We will be sleeping on the ground tomorrow.”

  Her heart burned with anger, but she decided not to argue. She did not truly believe she could dismiss him from service. Her father had hired him, and she had the suspicion he would not abandon her willingly. That meant she would have to help Jon Tayt survive the kishion’s blade. She nodded stubbornly and went to the bed. It was small and narrow, like the room, but it had been over a fortnight since she had set sail from Comoros. Sleeping here would be a luxury. Turning away from the kishion, she stared at the window and watched the branches outside sway with the wind. There were so many conflicting priorities in her heart, the mass of them burdened her. Her people were being destroyed by a power they could not see—the Myriad Ones. The King of Dahomey preyed on weaker countries and was obviously preparing to invade her father’s realm. Her protector wanted to kill everyone who was useful to her. The Dochte Mandar hunted her.

  Sleep did not come quickly. She worried about all the things she could not control in her life—so much so, her mind felt like bursting. To calm herself, she began to think and remember some of the sayings she had learned from Chancellor Walraven’s tome.

  The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions. Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination does when awake? As every divided kingdom falls, so every mind divided between many studies confounds and saps itself. As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death.

  The last saying brought a chill to her heart, along with a memory from when she and the kishion had landed on the beach of the cursed shores. You will all die in this place. This is the place where death was born.

  Why did it feel, in the darkness of the inn, that she had gained an acquaintance with death? That it stalked her, as well as everyone who followed her? They would all die, she suddenly realized. Even the kishion. Because of her.

  And then there were the last words from Walraven’s tome. The words that had haunted her since reading them, for they were the last words her friend had written before his death. In her mind’s eye, she could see him sitting in the tower, wearing wooden clogs, his hair disheveled, and his eyes weary and mournful.

  While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.

  A pebble clacked against the window, waking her.

  The room was dark, but the sky was just starting to grow pale. The noise roused the kishion as well.

  “The window,” he said warningly. “Lie still.”

  He moved from his position in front of the door on cat’s feet and soundlessly slinked to the edge of the window.

  Another pebble tapped against the glass.

  “Who is it?” Maia whispered. “Can you see?”

  The kishion reached out and opened the window, keeping himself in the shadows. The open window brought in a rush of birdsong that whirled and whistled through the morning sky in exuberant noise and variation.

  A figure blotted the frame of the window and Feint Collier dismounted the sill and came inside. As soon as he was on his feet, he held both of his hands out and up, showing he was unarmed.

  “I know you are behind me, sir,” he said, “with a knife ready to plunge into my back. I swear I climbed that tree not to seduce this woman, but to warn you both that the Dochte Mandar are on their way here and will be barging into the common room before long.” He turned his head slightly, glancing back at the kishion. “Are we friends then? I came to help you, so I would rather not get cut open.”

  Maia hurried off the bed. “Thank you for the warning. We will go.”

  “I would advise you not to leave from the ground floor. The inn will be surrounded, and while I do not mind tweaking the nose of a man like Corriveaux, he has at least fifty men with him, a solid description of you all, and he seems rather determined. I would advise the window and the roof.”

  “Why do you aid us?” the kishion asked curtly.

  “Oh, a man has any number of motives.”

  The sound of marching steps came from the hallway downstairs.

>   “What about Jon Tayt?” Maia said. “One of us must warn him.”

  “Already done, my lady. I met him as he was leaving the inn to get supplies. I told him where to meet us. Shall we?” He extended his hand to her. There was a mischievous smile on his face, and Maia’s heart hammered in warning. Rather than take his hand, she hurried and stuffed her tattered gown in her pack and quickly grabbed a cluster of grapes from the nearby tray. She felt rested, strengthened, and—once again—panicked.

  Once she nodded her readiness, Collier stepped onto the sill and climbed out the window onto the gabled roof. Maia poked her head out into the morning sky. The sun was rising quickly, dispelling the shadows of night. She saw some men holding torches down on the street below. They were spread out across the grounds.

  A hand came down from the gables and Collier seized her wrist and helped pull her up to the roof. The kishion followed, moving soundlessly as they scaled the stone shingles of the gables.

  “Quietly,” Collier whispered, finger to his mouth. The slope of the roof was steep, but he managed it with grace, then reached down and helped her up the roof as well. His hand was warm in hers, and he gave her a smile.

  She did not smile back. She felt like retching. They had been harried from one place to the next. The Dochte Mandar were desperate in their hunt.

  “The shingles are made out of stone,” Collier confided in a whisper, “because when part of the mountain crumbles off, it rains stone as well as water. The villagers have made use of what resources they have. Over that way. See how the roof meets the wall of the mountain on that end? We’re going up to the next tier of the town. Then up again to the manor house. That is where Tayt will meet us.”

  She stared at him. “The manor house is still empty?”

  “Of course, save for us. There are horses in the stables. I saddled three for you already, and they are waiting to go.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “You did?”

  He grinned, pleased by her expression. “Yes, I did. A trail leads out of Roc-Adamour from the manor house, one that will not be guarded by the Dochte Mandar. They are idiots—they do not know this town very well. It will take some time before they realize where you have gone.”

  They reached the edge of the roof, and Maia craned her neck to peer up the crumbling cliff that stretched high above. “How will we climb it?” she asked.

  He squatted at the edge of the roof. “You will see when it is lighter. We cannot climb it in the dark without a lantern, and it would be impossible for us to use a lantern without attracting attention. Patience.”

  The kishion came up behind them, and for a moment, she sensed he was ready to shove Collier off the roof to his death. She shuddered at the thought and deliberately edged closer to Collier, putting herself in the way.

  The sky side of the hill was purple with the dawn, the colors reminding her of plums and velvet. Some of the houses were just starting to sputter awake, and lazy plumes of smoke from the first fires rose like mist off the rooflines.

  “A moment longer,” Collier said. He seemed almost giddy with excitement. His long arm pointed. “Do you see it yet?”

  Her eyes were still adjusting to the dawn light, but she did see the small sliver of stone jutting up from the roofline. There were ridges in the cliff that formed a makeshift ladder.

  “It is not far to the next level. If there were a rope, it would be easier, but the ledges are wide enough. Just follow me, and we will be up there in a moment, before the sun can reveal us. I will go first to show the way. Come.”

  He rose, brushed his hands together, and then pressed his chest against the wall of the cliff and stepped onto the first jutting stone. He beckoned for Maia to follow. Her heart was hammering loudly in her ears, but she had faced more terrible challenges than this, so she joined him in his ascent. The kishion glanced back along the roof and then followed them.

  She hugged the rock as she shuffled sideways up. Collier pointed out a series of higher ridges, leading ever upward. Cautiously, she proceeded to the next ledge, and then the next. Her boot slipped once, causing a spasm of shock, but Collier’s hand pressed against her back, steadying her. “Easy, lass,” he whispered.

  There was a hanging ledge just above them and Collier planted his foot in the gap and clambered onto it. He leaned down to pull her up after him and then clawed through some brush that was growing in the gaps of the stone. They had made it; they had entered the second tier of the town. Maia breathed heavily, grateful for the reprieve, and moments later the kishion joined them, his eyes wary and watchful.

  “Follow me,” Collier said confidently, and they walked down the main road that wound its way around the darkened houses. The sounds of their boots mingled with the birdsong, and Maia felt her panic tapering off.

  “Thank you for helping us, Master Collier,” Maia said, keeping pace with his broad stride. He was tall and strong, reminding her of a sturdy warhorse.

  “You are welcome. There is a secret way up to the manor house over there. Do you see that tall building? That is the inn where I stayed last night. Corriveaux arrived during the night with soldiers, and word spread quickly. A servant thought I should know. I paid him well for the news. The king would surely want to know fugitives are being hunted in his land.” He gave her a sidelong look, his expression indicating he knew she was the fugitive but did not care. “Have you seen any?”

  She quelled a smile at his banter, but she knew she still could not trust him. With the King of Dahomey in league with the Dochte Mandar, both were dangerous to her. Whatever reasons Collier had for helping her probably had little to do with gallantry.

  With the sun rising, the purple shade turned to orange. The air smelled fresh and clean, and she felt her muscles invigorated by the walk. She brushed her hair behind her ear and craned her neck, looking up at the vast manor sprawling along the top of the hillside.

  Collier’s voice was urgent yet hushed. “People are coming. Quick, move into that gap between the buildings.”

  The three of them found shelter in the gap, which brought them to the edge of the cliff face again, this part of it even steeper than the last. After following Collier through some twisting passageways, they reached a thick grove of trees, split by a narrow shelf of steep stone stairs leading up arduously between a series of clefts and boulders.

  “The climb is rugged, but it is the fastest way to the stables.”

  The kishion stared at Collier, his eyes suspicious.

  “I know you do not trust me,” Collier said, returning the look. “But bear in mind that I am risking a great deal to help you. That should count for something. If you were to tell anyone that the king’s collier aided you, it would not go well for me. I trust we have mutual reasons to remain quiet on this. Do you agree, my lady?”

  Maia nodded.

  “Well enough. Up the steps then.”

  It was not long before Maia’s legs were burning with the effort of climbing the stone steps. They were crooked and too steep, but Collier seemed to mount them easily with his long legs. She grimaced as she pushed herself, but the cool morning air helped her make it to the top of the final cliff. The trees on the lower level provided the travelers with cover from any prying eyes.

  The manor house occupied the expanse of the hilltop. The three-story behemoth had a sloping roof and a single parapet on one end, topped with a cupola and an iron spike. A huge oak tree stood in the midst of a small terraced garden with neat, trimmed hedges. Some small arches of stone built into the rocky cliff helped extend the lawns and grounds slightly. Several gray doves flew overhead, cooing as they went.

  There was no smoke from any of the chimneys of the manor. No signs of life at all.

  “The stables are in the rear,” Collier said, directing them around the tall parapet to some stone sheds where they could hear the nickering of horses. So far, he had been true to his word. “
This way.”

  They reached the tall wooden doors, and Maia prepared herself to be betrayed. Why would this man have helped them escape the Dochte Mandar? What motive could he possibly have to betray his king or his king’s interests? She glanced at the kishion and saw the blatant distrust she felt, mirrored in his eyes. She would use the kystrel if she must.

  Collier reached for the massive door handles and pulled one of the stable doors open. Inside stood four saddled horses with bulging sacks fastened to their harnesses—provisions for their trip. Without pausing to look back at Maia and the kishion, he strode inside, kicking up dust and straw as he approached the first, a beautiful cream-colored stallion, and greeted the animal warmly by running his hand over its hide. Then he went to the other three, whispering to them in coaxing tones and patting their flanks. His talent with the beasts was unmistakable.

  “The brooding mare the color of soot is named Revenge. He is yours, my brooding friend,” he said, turning toward the kishion. “This brown is yours, my lady. Her name is Preslee. She is fast, so do not give her head unless the need is dire.” He stroked her long nose and then clapped her flanks warmly. “She can run. That may be useful to you.” He moved on to a shorter horse, a pony. “Chacewater is for Tayt when he arrives. He is small but sturdy, as are Tayt’s legs. Anything larger and he would need a bucket to stand on to even mount her. He may not be able to keep up like the other two, but he is tough. These mounts should suit you all.”

  Collier went over to his cream stallion and swung up into the saddle in a fluid, practiced motion. The sword dangled from his hip. “I will ride back through town as if going to Argus, since that was my original destination. The road behind the stables will bring you east, away from Corriveaux and the Dochte Mandar, to the town of Briec. If you would, leave the horses there with the innkeeper. The man’s name is Clem Pryke. It is the largest inn, so it will not be difficult to find. I will come back in two days to pick them up and bring them back here, no one the wiser.”

  He leaned down in his saddle, looking at Maia with an expression she could not interpret. “So I must leave you.”