The Banished of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  Maia, where are you?

  As he awoke, she could sense his surroundings. He was still in the tent, jostled awake by one of his guards, who had grown alarmed by his long silence. Through the kystrel around his neck, she could feel his growing fear, which he quickly mastered. She had guessed as much earlier, but here was the proof. The magic had bonded them together. He took a cup offered by his brother and drank it quickly. He gave some curt orders, for the men were restless.

  “Where is Lady Marciana?” someone asked him.

  It was so strange, feeling like she was still in the tent with him when she was hours away. He was sick with worry, wondering if linking himself to her had been a terrible mistake. She saw him as he was inside, saw the mixture of human feelings that he carefully guarded and concealed from others, but could not hide from her. She could strip his soul bare. It would be so easy. There was nothing he could do to protect himself. Yes, the kystrel gave him power—the ability to summon the Medium and command it to perform. But in return, it gave her absolute power over his mind, his thoughts, his feelings. His everything. She could bend him, twist him, make him into anyone she wanted him to be. She could . . .

  Maia was horrified at the deliciousness of the feelings surging up inside her. At the welling hunger.

  Maia?

  His thoughts were timid. She could feel him reaching out to her, and it would be so easy to respond. It did not matter how many leagues separated them.

  Their very souls were entwined because of the kystrel. When it had been wrenched from her neck, she had felt empty and anxious without it. But because he was wearing it, her powers were only magnified. The stain of the tattoo would grow on his chest now while hers started to fade. She could sense it vividly now, the mixing of their minds, the drawing together.

  I sense you, he thought. Why will you not answer me? You are mounted and riding fast. It makes me a little . . . ill. How strange this feels. You can hear me? I sense that you can. Answer me.

  He gave another curt order to someone and stormed out of the tent. She could feel his anger starting to throb, frustration mingling with it. He inspected his stallion’s saddle and then scolded the boy who had prepared it for doing it wrong. He touched his heart, covering the kystrel with his palm.

  Maia, answer me! I sense you . . . east. You are riding to the mountains. One of the passes is very dangerous. You must not go there. There is a creature in the mountains. No one can kill it.

  She wanted to get his thoughts out of her mind. She pulled her awareness away from his, feeling the jolt and shudder of the horse as it charged beneath her.

  Maia stared at the mountain range. The air was crisp and lovely, the scent heavy with the smell of grass and earth. She stamped at the horse’s flanks, riding harder, faster, trying to escape the thoughts flitting through her mind. She had always loved horses and was an accomplished rider. A horse meant freedom, which is why her father had given all of hers away.

  She would not answer Collier. Though that sick yearning inside her said otherwise, she did not want the ability to control him or root around inside his mind. He had been so reckless, not willing to recognize the danger of his actions. What would happen when she fell asleep? What would the Myriad One do to him through her?

  No, she could not fall asleep—not just to save herself, but to protect him.

  Behind her, she could hear Jon Tayt calling out, but his words did not fully reach her. Her cloak whipped about her shoulders, fanning out behind her like a banner. Tears stung her eyes from the wind beating against her face. Faster, she wanted to ride faster!

  She had studied a Dochte Mandar’s tome about the hetaera. She had learned about them, been warned about them, but really . . . so little was commonly known about them, only tidbits chronicled by Dieyre before his death. She knew about the brand on the shoulder. She knew that once a hetaera gave her kystrel to a man, her powers increased. She had also learned that hetaera always betrayed those who held their kystrels. Betrayal was their favorite tool.

  Maia, please! Answer me. What would you have me do? You said last night you would guide me. Do you want me to invade Comoros? Do you want me to topple your father?

  Maia gritted her teeth, anguished by her feelings. She could use her powers to stop him. But using them would only increase the Myriad One’s sway over her.

  She tried to shut him out of her mind. She tried to bury his thoughts away where she could not hear him. Maia kept her gaze fixed on the approaching mountains, the hulking snow-capped peaks and rugged edges. It was beautiful, yet she was filled with nothing but dread.

  She knew that no matter how hard she rode, she could not escape Collier’s voice in her head. She would not be able to escape until she found an Aldermaston who could banish the Myriad One from her body.

  Cruix Abbey. The thought burned in her mind like a seething coal from a fire pit. She had to reach the abbey without sleeping.

  Yet why did that thought also bring with it a small throb of glee?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Fear Liath

  The air in the mountains sliced like knives with each frozen breath. Maia was grateful now that Jon Tayt had insisted she bring both gowns, for she had needed them for the arduous journey rising into the Peliyey Mountains. While the view from the valley below was majestic in its splendor, it had been a difficult climb, taxing both her strength and her determination.

  Jon Tayt had warned that because they were entering the mountains so late in the day, it would be hard to cross the Fear Liath’s lair before dark. Maia did not feel she had a choice. She could not linger in the valley to wait out the night, not when falling asleep could be disastrous. She could feel the awareness of the Myriad One inside her. Now that she knew it was there, her own thoughts so intermingled with its that she was not sure which were truly her own.

  They had left the horses down on the valley floor, for the ground was too treacherous and steep for them to make the climb. Mules would have been better companions for such a journey. Maia had wrapped herself in both of her gowns and Collier’s cloak, and even with her rucksack against her back, she still felt the mountain’s chill. Her legs throbbed with the punishing climb, but she was determined to make it through the pass in time.

  Not only did she have a Myriad One trapped inside her head, but she also had to deal with Feint Collier. It took some concentration and focus to block out the thoughts of where he was and who he was with, but after a persistent effort, he fell silent.

  As she walked, she pondered why she had not told him the truth about her predicament. In those first moments after awakening, she had been too disoriented, confused, and frightened to think straight. But why not tell him now? He believed she was a hetaera. The mark on her shoulder could not be explained away. Yet she had not willingly accepted any hetaera vows, and she could not remember how it had even happened. She might not be able to control what she did when she lost consciousness or when the being inside her took control, but she could at least explain the situation to Collier. Certainly he could choose not to believe her, but was that truly a reason to remain silent? She struggled with indecision.

  The mountains rose steeply, and she paused to drink from her flask of water. Jon Tayt did not look winded at all, and he stopped to wait for her, hooking his thumb in his broad belt. Argus sniffed at the dirt and stone of the trail thoroughly. She looked back and saw the kishion, his eyes fixed on her, as they always were. She wondered again what, specifically, her father had hired him to do. Would he be honest if she asked him?

  She fixed the flask to her pack again and nodded for the hunter to continue. The path was narrow and rugged, meandering through broken rocks and sparse vegetation. There were no trees at this height, and the rock fragments were so sharp they could slice through skin. She smelled mule’s ear on the wind, just the essence of it, but she could not find any of the plant with her eyes.

  As th
ey continued their journey, she began to tease out the root of the reason she had not told Collier the truth. She did not trust the King of Dahomey. He was her husband, legally, but he had used artifice to win her. He did not have a history of being a trustworthy man, and if she were going to bare her soul to someone and confess her shame and her troubles, there needed to be some degree of mutual trust. Perhaps she would tell him, but not until he had proved himself a faithful confidant. But then, why would she want a husband who had deliberately sought to marry a hetaera?

  The sun began to set before they had even crossed the top of the pass. Their boots crunched in snow and ice, against which they stood out in stark contrast—an easy target. Her nose was cold and pink, and she felt the air growing thinner, making each step a trial of energy. There was no denying that her physical strength was ebbing.

  “How much farther?” she asked Jon Tayt after catching up with him.

  He glanced down at her, his eyes dark. “I warned you before we started that we were fools to cross the mountain so late in the day.” She saw the nervousness in his eyes. The normal jovial smile was gone.

  “I can keep going,” she said. “We are not discovered yet.”

  “We have no choice but to keep going, Lady Maia. If that thing catches us in the mountains, we are all dead unless you can banish it.”

  “Have we crossed into Mon yet? Or are we still in Dahomey?”

  “Dahomey,” he replied. He wiped his dripping nose on the edge of his gloved hand. “These mountains are vast, running north to south. Mon is still a way to the east, over a few more ranges. Cruix farther north. We will join a mountain trail that runs along the ridges. It is the one we were warned not to take. All the lower passes will be guarded on Dahomey’s side of the mountain.”

  He focused on the ground ahead and fell silent. Maia struggled to match his relentless pace, but she managed it.

  “Why are we seeking an Aldermaston?” he asked her softly. “Why this one?”

  She did not like his question.

  “I have my reasons, Jon Tayt.”

  “I know. You said you wished to be taken to the land of the Naestors. Now we are going to an abbey.”

  “Trust me that I have said all I can say,” she replied.

  He sighed and then asked her no more questions.

  The moon was silver in the sky, fringed with hoarfrost and gleaming like a cold jewel. The temperature had fallen rapidly, and each breath brought a fog of mist from their mouths as they huffed their way down the far slope of the pass. They had crossed it at midnight, knee-deep in snow. Her feet ached with cold, her toes feeling more like stones than flesh. She hugged herself and plunged on. The stars twinkled in the sky—mysterious and fraught with meaning.

  “Ach,” Jon Tayt swore, coming to a halt and holding out his arm to keep her from stumbling.

  “What is it?” the kishion asked.

  Tayt pointed down the trail where a thick bank of fog had appeared, drowning out the moonlight.

  The hackles rose on Argus’s neck, and a low growl sounded in his throat.

  “We are above the clouds,” the kishion said. “That is all.”

  Jon Tayt shook his head. “No, I have not seen the like of this before in these mountains. The clouds do not settle midmountain like this. Only the ones high enough to cross can make it over, and they usually dump snow. This is unnatural.”

  Argus barked sharply and Tayt cuffed him. “Chut! Quiet, dog!”

  Maia could feel tendrils of fear creep into her bones, wilting her courage. “It was not behind us after all,” she said dully, feeling a fool. She had thought they would be safe after crossing the pass.

  “Aye,” Jon Tayt said, drawing one of his axes. He sniffed. “Well, if a Fear Liath wants to pick at my bones, it will have to murder me first. No sense going back up the mountain. These mists can move quickly, I have heard, when the beasts are hunting prey.”

  “We fight it?” the kishion asked.

  “No,” Maia said. “I brought this danger upon us. I will see us past it. The creature will let us pass.”

  “I have heard it said that only mastons can tame these ilk,” Jon Tayt said gruffly. “Let us hope your amulet fares as well.”

  Maia ignored the comment and began walking ahead of them. When Jon Tayt tried to pass her, she waved him back. As she walked, she summoned the kystrel’s power. It responded immediately, hungrily, and she felt it wash over her in cinnamon waves of pleasure.

  There was Collier in her mind instantly. Maia—are you in trouble? Where are you? I feel cold and fear.

  She ignored his intruding whispers and summoned power and strength from the amulet. The wind began to pick up and tousle her clothes. She knew her eyes glowed silver, and she hoped the sight of her coming would be enough to discourage the beast in the mist.

  From the wall of fog, a barking chuffing noise sounded. Argus whined with fear. Maia felt the tendrils of terror weaving around her own heart, but she banished the feelings with her power. It was like shedding a mantle and leaving it by the wayside. The fear could not seed within her. The mist loomed as she approached, the fog churning with anger as she neared it, unafraid.

  “By Cheshu,” Jon Tayt said, his voice thick with emotion. She could sense his terror and awe, and she used her power to strip it away, emboldening him. The kishion had stopped in the snow, his hands trembling as they drew his daggers. Even he was afraid. She sipped the fear from his soul with her kystrel.

  Maia halted, seeing a shadow in the fog cloud. It was a massive hulking shape and she heard the thick crunch of snow as it padded forward. At the shoulder it was at least eight spans high, wider and thicker than a monstrous boulder. Plumes of frost came from its snout as it chuffed again. Argus quivered with restlessness.

  “Stand aside,” Maia ordered. As if it were not frightening enough on its own, it emitted a force that instilled fear. She shielded her companions from it, taking the brunt of it on herself. Her heart was hard as flint. She stared down at the beast, feeling the winds coming more forcefully at her back, making her cloak billow.

  The beast snorted, fixed as an obelisk. She could feel the defiance in its bearing. She was challenging it in its own lair.

  It had only an animal intelligence, but it was keen and cunning and terribly vicious. It came forward, rippling with muscle and sinew and shadow.

  Maia held her ground, immune to its power, but she realized the only weapon she had against it was the kystrel’s magic.

  Stand aside or I will destroy you, she thought, sending the words at it like shards of glass from her mind.

  Give me meat. One man’s fear to savor. The other may pass.

  The thoughts were half formed and facile, but she could immediately read its intent. The Fear Liath intended to claim a sacrifice for passing the mountain. A life. It hungered for fear. It fed on despair. It did not care whether she gave it Tayt or the kishion. But it would have one of them.

  No, Maia challenged, her thoughts churning with anger. I will destroy you instead.

  The beast’s thoughts seemed to chuckle. I will have my meat. I devour fear. I will take it!

  It started to come at her, bounding forward on its front paws. She should never have tried to best it in its own lair, let alone at night, when its power was strongest. The chuffing noise turned into an earsplitting roar, and she saw only the slaver, the fangs, the claws. She would have quailed without the kystrel.

  “Maia!” Jon Tayt shrieked in despair. He stepped in front of her, throwing his first axe at the beast’s head. The axe went true and struck the monster, but to no effect, deflecting into the snow. The second axe followed the first, whistling as it spun, and it also bounced off the monster’s snout.

  Maia could sense triumph in the being’s primitive mind. She struck out with the magic, blasting it with every emotion and feeling she possessed. It wanted a
feast, she would give it one, by Cheshu! The wind howled through the canyon, sending her hair flapping in front of her face, her cloak whipping wildly. The beast tried to claw her, knocking Jon Tayt aside, but the kishion lunged and shoved her down, taking the next blow himself. The claws raked through his cloak, his shirt, and she could see steam rising from the gash on his arm. The kishion jutted the dagger into the beast’s neck, but the blade would not penetrate.

  The ice bit into Maia’s forearms, and she struggled back to her feet, sending a hot blast of fear into the beast’s chest, just as she had done to the one that guarded the bones of the fallen soldiers near the lost abbey. The memory brought with it a realization. That other beast had fled after snatching some of the soldiers. She had not defeated it at all. It had let them go after taking its tithe—its meal of fear to digest.

  The creature’s jaws snapped at the kishion, and she heard him call out in pain as its teeth bit into his side and lifted him off the ground.

  “No!” Maia screamed, holding out her hands and welling up more power. She had to conquer the beast. But how? The wind screamed and howled, mirroring her anger and frustration as the Fear Liath began dragging the kishion away, his blood smearing and steaming the snow.

  Argus snagged at the kishion’s boot, snarling and tugging, trying to keep the man from being dragged away. The beast did not slow its pace.

  Maia screamed in rage, watching as her protector was ripped away from her. Her mind went black with murder, and thunder crackled in the clear sky above. Still, the Fear Liath slumped off into the fog, dragging the kishion’s body with it. Argus could not master the beast’s strength and had to release the boot cuff.

  Maia sagged to her knees, her eyes burning. From the fog darted silver-furred beasts, timber wolves, who rushed at the Fear Liath and began snapping at it savagely. The howling she was hearing was not only from the wind. It was the sound of wolves. The pack surrounded the gargantuan creature, challenging it for its prey with snarls and snaps. The commotion was deafening, and Maia watched in surprise as the wolves attacked the Fear Liath. She felt the Myriad Ones all around her, snuffling and sniffing at her, drawn to the spilled blood. The sky was suddenly full of bats, fluttering from the trees and sky like an arrow cloud.