The Scourge of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  “She is a beauty,” Jouvent said with a proud smile. “That is our Abbey. The finest mountain in the world.”

  His words summoned a memory. Long ago, she and Colvin had followed Maderos up the Tor which overlooked Muirwood far below. The climb had been strenuous, though the older man had hardly struggled for breath. She remembered him telling her, quite cryptically, that there would be other mountains she would climb. To find Tintern Abbey, she and Colvin had climbed a mountain in Pry-Ree. To reach Colvin, she would climb another one. A wave of emotions smothered her suddenly and she choked a moment.

  “Other travelers,” Jouvent said, his face going from grin to grim. As Lia looked around, she saw others crossing the wetlands towards the great Abbey. “It is still safe to cross now. Best be there before supper, or the sea will trap thee inside. The inns will cheat thee. I must get back to mother soon. It is a long walk, but thou walkest well.”

  Three dark dots appeared in the shimmering sand ahead and she realized it was three travelers leaving the Abbey for the mainland. Her heart began to pound when she recognized the black cloaks and cassocks riding dark steeds.

  Jouvent hissed through his teeth. “Dochte Mandar.”

  There was no place to hide. The broad expanse of sand and seagrass left nothing for shelter or to not be seen. Lia gritted her teeth as they approached at a calm walk, in no rush to leave the Abbey. She tugged her cloak tightly about her, trying to conceal her gladius the best she could.

  The Dochte Mandar wore black with white ruffs about their necks. The cassocks were black velvet and designed with silver trim, reminding her instantly of the Queen Dowager’s henchmen. Their boots were lined with white pelts and each had gems studding their belts and saddle harnesses. Swords were fastened to their belts, each with a large ruby set into a silver hilt. Their faces were mazes of tattoos, which disguised their features and drew in her eyes.

  “Thou art never to met their gaze,” Jouvent warned, staring down at the sheen on the water. “’Tis disrespectful.”

  “Thank you,” Lia answered and followed his example. The horses snorted as they approached and Jouvent stopped, his head bowed meekly.

  “Another set of pilgrims,” said one in strong Dahomeyjan. It was the formal speech she was used to, not the port speech. “They throng like locusts.”

  Lia was not sure if she was supposed to respond or not, so she said nothing. Another answered instead. “Each soul must be saved. Regardless of how petty.”

  The first stopped his horse in front of them imperiously. “Well met, travelers. What village do you hail from?”

  Jouvent took his cap and wrung it in his hands. “Vezins, masters.”

  “Ah, a lad from the port. Can you tell me, child, if the Earl of Dieyre arrived? The foreign lord?”

  Jouvent nodded vigorously. “Aye, he be there.”

  “Excellent, excellent. Thank you, child. The Medium’s blessing be on you.”

  “He does not have the mark,” one of them murmured softly, but Lia heard it.

  “Indeed, he does not. Boy, have you received the water rite?”

  “No, masters,” Jouvent said, his face twisting with discomfort. “Not yet.”

  There was a snort of dissatisfaction. “Why not? Why do you delay it?”

  Jouvent wrung his cap more fiercely. “Mother. I am her only child. Her only help. She cannot spare me yet. But soon.”

  “Look at me.”

  Jouvent shook his head, his body quaking with fear.

  “Look at me,” repeated the command. Lia could sense the churn of the Medium in the air. She could feel it swallow her whole, as if some great glass jar had clamped down on them both. She risked a glance and saw the one speaking, his eyes glowing silver.

  Jouvent looked up at him, his face pale.

  “You must understand it is important. Believe me when I tell you that you must disobey your mother if necessary to receive the water rite. You have until Twelfth Night, child. Remember that. If you do not receive it by then…” He paused, his voice so somber it chilled Lia’s heart. “Your mother will regret it with great pain. Twelfth Night, child. Do not delay.”

  Jouvent was trembling. “Yes, masters,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Have you seen any mastons?” he asked next, his voice supple and inviting.

  The coils of the Medium wrapped around Jouvent. She could see him struggling against it, fighting against it, but it was too powerful.

  Lia pushed against their thoughts with her own. Do not fear them, she thought to the boy. Do not fear them, Jouvent. They cannot hurt you with me here. I will protect you.

  The Dochte Mandar who had asked the question suddenly turned on her, as if he had heard the thought. “What village do you hail from, lass?”

  The full weight of the Medium slammed into her, nearly making her mind go black. There were three of them pushing against her, using their kystrels to swarm her feelings with the sensations of worthlessness, shame, humiliation, foreboding. It struck her so forcefully that she lost thought of who she was for a moment and could only stand there blinking, trying to remember her own name.

  She almost said Muirwood. The compulsion to say it was so strong, the word nearly slipped out of her mouth. They would know of her Abbey, she realized. Yet she also realized she had to speak truthfully.

  “I hail from Pry-Ree. I seek work as a cook at Dochte Abbey,” she said, fighting against the surging feelings.

  “You hail from Pry-Ree?” came a startled response.

  “It is true,” answered another. “She speaks the truth. She is from Pry-Ree.”

  Lia swallowed, struggling against the feelings of unworthiness.

  “We have enough scum from Pry-Ree as it is,” said the third. “Go your way then. You are a foreigner, child. I can hear it in your accent. But if you would stay in Dahomey, you must also accept the water rite. Do it, while you are here. It will protect you from the Blight.”

  “Thank you, masters,” Lia said respectfully.

  “Have you encountered any mastons in your journeys?” he asked her.

  Lia nodded. “Several. There are a few left in Pry-Ree. Most are in hiding.”

  “The mastons are the source of the Blight that comes,” he responded. “They must be sought after and found. If you find a maston, you must tell one of us. Do you understand, child?”

  The Medium crushed against her will. She resisted it, but the weight of it was so strong she nearly revealed that she was one. “Yes, masters.”

  The three horseman rode on, muttering amongst themselves as they passed.

  Lia breathed deeply. It took several moments for her feelings to subside. She understood what had happened to Marciana better. A Dochte Mandar had manipulated her feelings. Even knowing it was not real, she could not deny that the feelings she experienced were quite real. They were so powerful, she wondered if she could have resisted if more had been there. Their power increased with numbers, she realized. A lone maston would not be able to stand against many.

  “Jouvent, you must tell me this. What is the water rite? I have not heard of it.”

  The boy looked terrified. “It is one of the maston rites. When the Dochte Mandar opened the Abbeys to all, they said that all must join in the rites. The water rite is one. They have a holy bowl and cup their hands and pour water on your head. For babes, they dip their fingers in the bowl and swipe it across their foreheads, here…” He demonstrated. “I did not know there were babies to be mastons.”

  “There are not,” Lia replied, sick inside at what was happening. “This is wrong. This is very wrong.”

  “I must get back to mother,” Jouvent said. “Thy way is clear to the Abbey. I must be past the forest by dark.”

  “Jouvent,” Lia said, stopping him. Her feelings still trembled from the power of the Dochte Mandar. “The mastons are not causing the Blight. That was a lie.”

  “I know.”

  “But he was not lying about one part. Something will happen at Twelfth Night
. If I do not return to Vezins soon – if I am delayed – you must seek the captain of the Holk – the ship that I sailed on. His name is Tomas Aldermaston. You and your mother must be on board by Twelfth Night.” She gripped his shoulder and forced him to look at her. “Do you understand me, Jouvent? The Blight is coming and it will come by Twelfth Night. There is not much time left.”

  “Aye.” He smashed the cap back on his head and started back the way they had come.

  “Good boy,” Lia said. She turned and faced the giant mountain, the Abbey where Colvin and Ellowyn had come earlier and could not leave because of the Queen Dowager. She was in custody in Muirwood. Colvin and Ellowyn were in custody in Dochte.

  She had the suspicion that it was not by chance that it had worked out that way.

  Squaring her shoulders and striding forward, she approached the outer walls of Dochte Abbey and walked towards the nearest gate. After reaching into the pouch at her waist, she withdrew the orb. Who should she find first? Colvin or Martin?

  As she stared up at the sculpted stone walls, the endless rows of shingles and chimneys and trees, she was awed by its presence. The sight of Muirwood had always made her experience the Medium. It felt like home. Dochte Abbey was ancient and splendid. It dwarfed any structure she had ever seen, including the castles at Comoros. But there was no feeling of light and warmth coming from it. The feeling it exuded was one of utter blackness.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

  Hetaera

  The entire hillside of Dochte Abbey was a maze of walls and an endless parade of stone steps that ascended higher and higher. Every time she passed through another arch, it would curl upwards again, another laborious ascent bringing her higher and higher within the grounds. Her legs burned from the effort and still she had not reached even the lower portion of the outer walls of the Abbey. There were fellow pilgrims everywhere, thronging the grounds and visiting shops and bakeries for food. There was cider in abundance. As Lia finished mounting one particular set of steps, she looked back the way she had come and could see over the outer walls far below and saw the rippling waves of the sea that now smothered the lowlands beyond, trapping her inside. From the vantage point, there were several tall sturdy trees spreading their foliage over the lip of the walls and offering patches of shade. The walls were cut of square stone blocks, forming guardrails and even steps, so meticulously laid that it seemed as though every portion of the grounds had been sculpted. Lia rounded the corner and started up again, trying to keep her breath. The pilgrims around her were marked with tattoos and she shielded her face with her cowl. Hawkers tried to sell pies or cider, but she waved them away.

  The Cruciger orb was her guide, helping her maneuver the twists and bends as she ascended the heights to the Abbey proper. What she needed and desired was a secret way into the Abbey, one that would bring her past the eyes of the sentinels – the Dochte Mandar. She did not want to meet any more and hoped the orb would guide her to a safe entrance. It did.

  Near the fifth level of the city as she walked down a long corridor full of inns and shops, the orb guided her to a secluded park set off by a wrought-iron gate that was not locked. It was rusty and squeaked as it opened, but she walked down a narrow aisle between two crammed buildings that opened to the park full of mature pine trees and stone benches. The inner walls were thick with rose trees as well that were interspersed and offered a splash of color and wonderful scents. There was no one in the garden, it seemed tucked away and hidden from the main ways she had passed. Lia rested a moment, trying to summon her strength, and then studied the orb again. The pointers directed her to the wall.

  As she approached a dark hollow, hidden by the shade, an ominous feeling confronted her. It sent a rushing tingle down to her stomach and caused a swarm of conflicting emotions, which she recognized immediately as those caused by a Leering. She ground her teeth as she pushed forward and the sense of dread heightened so much that her teeth chattered and the urge to run nearly overwhelmed her. She reached out to the Leering with her mind and silenced it, but the feeling persisted, growing worse with each step. In the shade, she saw a symbol carved into the stone wall – two intertwined serpents. It was the symbol she had seen in her visions.

  Seeing it caused a sense of dread and fear deep inside her. It was the mark of the hetaera, she realized. It was one of their Leerings. How would she be able to get past it? There was a password, she realized. Just as existed within the tunnels beneath Muirwood, there were Leerings that guarded her Abbey as well. Without the password, she would not be able to enter.

  But what was the password?

  Lia breathed deeply, staring at the twisting snakes defiantly. She had come too far to be thwarted now. When she had passed the maston test at Muirwood, there was a password she did not know. The Medium had whispered it to her. Confidently, patiently, she waited, pushing down the awful feelings of dread and instead she thought of Muirwood and how calm and peaceful it was. Closing her eyes, she thought of its beautiful grounds, the brilliant tendrils of fern, of flowers planted in sculpted stone boxes, of the laundry and fragrant sprays of purple mint. She fell inside herself, drawing deeper into the memories. There was the Aldermaston, Pasqua, Prestwich. From the core within herself, she sensed the Medium hiding, aware of her – unafraid of the surroundings but seeing if her fear would get the better of her. She would not let it. Gently, she bid it to assist her with the password, to teach her the command that would silence the Leering and open the hidden passageway beyond.

  The orb glowed in her hand and she thrust her eyes open as a single word appeared on the surface. The Leering was tamed and the stone moved silently open, allowing her a way inside. Thanking the Medium silently in her mind, Lia ventured inside.

  It opened to a narrow walkway, between a chasm of stone walls. One of the walls stretched up so high that she realized she was staring at the base of the Abbey itself. In her mind, she repeated the command. She wanted to find Colvin but in a place where she could meet him privately. If she could not go where he was, then she wanted to go where he would be. She judged that the orb could do this, as it has done it before when she sought him after Almaguer’s men had captured him. It would guide her on the safest course, not just the most direct course. The spindles spun and pointed and she followed the base of the wall for a good distance before it stopped at another section of wall that contained another Leering. She repeated the request with the Medium and again the orb flashed and the Leering obeyed. Once more she stepped beneath a short archway and found herself inside another garden. This one was enormous and sculpted, full of shade and fountains and trimmed hedges. There were stone paths winding in lazy circles and rows of flowers and terraced stone boxes. Some plants hung from iron chains in dishes. The cloying smell of star jasmine filled the air. There were small benches and cushioned seats arrayed for guests, though the park was empty. She was grateful to find a stand of plum trees that still were full of ripe fruit. She ate several and savored their sweetness then stowed some in her rucksack for later. As she looked past the screen of branches and leaves, she saw the citadel-like walls of Dochte Abbey loom above her and noticed windows set into the towers and small balconies. The view must have been breathtaking.

  Lia consulted with the orb again and it led her to the outer wall of the Abbey. She crossed the grass and hedges swiftly, anxious not to be caught wandering there and she listened carefully for the sound of any intruders. There was a shallow alcove and a door and she reached for the handle and it opened without resistance. Within was a corridor completely engulfed in stone, as black as a tomb. She swallowed, staring at the orb once again, and it blazed with light as she entered and the door shut behind her.

  Lia found herself within a maze of interconnected narrow tunnels deep within the Abbey walls. The passage was not straight, but went up and down, forking this way and that as it followed between the walls of the lower portion of the Abbey. It was designed for stealth and moving unseen. Without the orb she would have been completel
y lost. With it, she managed to find her way to a section that led to a winding stairwell ascending higher and higher. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she climbed the steps, the path so narrow that she nearly felt the walls rubbing against her arms. Higher she went until the orb directed her to a massive stone block set on hinges. There were metal braces set into it and she saw the place where a loose stone could be pushed from the other side to unlatch it. She put her hand on the wall, her breath nearly bursting.

  Was Colvin there?

  She waited, stilling her breathing until she was calm again. She tripped the latch and pulled on the stone wall, which slid soundlessly back and opened to the full view of a small, square bedchamber. The only light came from the orb and from a thin curtain covering the sole window. It was not a spacious room. It seemed more fit for a scullion than an earl. There was a small bed, a single leather-bound chest, and a chair. There was no changing screen, no garderobe, only a chamberpot. Lia stared at the room, wondering if the orb would lead her further, but as soon as she entered, the spindles stopped moving.

  The walls were made of stone and very cold. There was a small brazier by the window, but it was full of white ash. Was this Colvin’s room? Her heart sank with the realization. The small, confined place was where he was being held prisoner? She walked to the bed and touched the thin blanket covering it, then leaned down and smelled it.

  The scent was unmistakable. It smelled like Colvin and it brought tears to her eyes. There was a pillow and dusty velvet hangings from the square frame. It reminded her a little of Pasqua’s bed – narrow enough for only one person and high off the ground.

  There was a small cup near the window with sprigs of desiccated purple mint. Lia parted the curtain and saw the windows were dirty, but there was a latch that allowed them to be opened, so she did and stared out at the vista. Iron shutters were recessed but open to the view. She could see the gardens below. The balcony was a decoration – there was no room for a person to stand on it. From her vantage, she could see the ocean stretching before her as well as the cusp of land known as the Spike. The air had a salty smell.