The Scourge of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  The Aldermaston’s expression was mottled with hatred. “She had her chance already. Take her.”

  * * *

  Lia’s wrists were chained again in irons and she was dragged up the steps, exhausted. When she reached the outer doors, she felt the cool breeze but the air was sharp with a burning smell. Even though the sun had set, the sky was illuminated by fire. As Lia struggled to see, she saw a crowd of fifty or more, forced to kneel in the turf. They were surrounded by Dochte Mandar who wore the kystrels openly on top of their cassocks. Their faces were striped with the twists and insignias of tattoos. Some of the prisoners were children.

  Lia was forced to kneel amidst the other prisoners. The faces around her were drawn and pinched with fear and dread. Many were whimpering. Some were crazed with the anticipation of death. The firelight was coming from the wall of the Abbey. It was not a bonfire, but a furnace-like opening that gushed with violent flames – like a giant hearth large and wide enough to fit twelve people. She sensed the Leering in the back of it, summoning fire from some nether world in a roar and rush that made it seem like a living thing.

  The Aldermaston’s voice rose over the noise. “You are condemned to die this night because you have refused to submit to the water rite. You have been warned and forewarned that this would happen. Some of you cling to the mistaken belief that the Medium will save you. It will not. There is a new order for worshipping the Medium now. The order of the mastons has ended. In every realm, in every kingdom, across every land the Abbeys will burn this night.”

  Lia stared at the flames, mesmerized by their ferocity. She breathed deeply, knowing that she would not be harmed. But those around her did not share her Gift. She glanced from face to face, her heart panging with sadness. As she looked at each one, she saw that they had been warned, at one time or another, to flee. They were stubborn, refusing to heed the warning that had been given to them. In her mind’s eye, she saw them clinging to that stubbornness, not to their belief in the Medium. Now it was too late. She saw a boy and craned her neck, but it was not the boy Jouvent. The mother near him was not Huette from Vezins. She had warned them both to go to the Holk. She hoped they had listened to her. One by one, face by face, she looked at them, feeling dread and sadness at what would happen to them. The warning had been given. Now it was too late.

  Lia sighed deeply, preparing to be ushered into the flames. Deep inside, she knew her work was not finished. There was something remaining for her to do.

  Lia felt someone’s eyes on her. She looked up and noticed the man near her. His face was familiar – she had seen him on the Holk, one of the crew. His gray eyes were staring intently at her face. Her mind rushed furiously for a moment, and then she remembered his name. Malcolm. His hands were bound behind his back as well.

  Slowly, deliberately, he nodded to her.

  The Aldermaston’s voice rose in a shriek. “The moment has come! The stars are in alignment to our cause. The silver moon smiles upon us. The sun has set in the ebony sky, hiding his face in shame. Throw them into the Gargouelle! May all who defy us be burned with fire.”

  * * *

  “We were married this evening at dusk, bound to each other by irrevocare sigil by the Aldermaston. Bound to each other forever. He is mine. At long last, he is mine. Colvin says the last loyal men to my uncle and myself will gather and fight in the Demont name. We ride on the morrow for Bosworth town to rally them. The orb will guide us there as it has guided us here. The guest quarters are beautifully furnished, though not as richly as Dochte. I must douse the lamps before he returns. He cannot see my shoulder. I have commanded the Leerings to burn when we leave. ”

  - Ellowyn Demont at Billerbeck Abbey

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE:

  The Blight Leering

  Screams filled the night sky in a terrible melody. It was an unearthly sound, of fear and terror and pleading all mixing together into an agonizing chorus as, by two’s and three’s, the prisoners were clutched, dragged, and then shoved into the flaming maw of the Leering furnace. Lia stared at the bright flames, made even brighter somehow as the night deepened. She watched children, mothers, fathers, the aged – all corralled by the Dochte Mandar and thrust to their deaths. Some tried to recant, swearing they would accept the water rite, but there was no compassion. One after another were sent to the flames, the crowd of prisoners thinning moment after moment. The silver eyes of the Dochte Mandar gleamed, their power driving away any feeling of resistance or anger. Lia’s heart panged seeing the destruction and realized that on many nights to come, such a scene would be repeated.

  The Aldermaston of Dochte strode towards her, his face flushed and gleaming with sweat. His look was exultant. “Behold your Blight,” he sneered at her. “Where is your power now, child? Where is your faith? It is nothing but ashes.” The look he gave her was savage and full of delight. “Send her next.”

  Lia rose without being yanked to her feet as the others. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, that Malcolm rose just a shadow behind her. She grit her teeth, trying to summon the power of the Medium. She remembered the fire that consumed Almaguer’s men in the Bearden Muir. More than anything, she wanted to unleash it on the Aldermaston and those who served him. But it did not heed her plea. It was a selfish desire, she realized. Forcing down her hatred, she marched towards the Leering.

  “Make sure she goes in,” the Aldermaston warned.

  Malcolm strode next to her, his wrists in chains as well. The grass crumpled under her feet. Strange that her thoughts strayed to the feel of the grass. She felt no fear. The air was acrid, the smell sending a revolting lurch into her stomach. Soon the roar of the fires began to drown the shrieks of fear coming from those few remaining. Glancing down and to the side, she saw Malcolm walking step in step with her, shuffling forward towards the doom of the furnace.

  “Stay with me,” she whispered to him. “I will try and save you.”

  “Aye,” he replied gruffly, closing the gap.

  The light from the furnace was blindingly bright. Lia strode forward, ignoring the wave of heat and tongues of whipping flames that sought her. She clenched her teeth, sinking inside herself, dropping into the calm memories of Muirwood. Even in death’s maw, she felt it – the peace and reassurance that she had grown up experiencing. Her love and admiration for the Aldermaston throbbed in her heart. She wondered where he was at that moment and if he was aware of her somehow. She had the deep impression that he knew much that he had not told her.

  Malcolm sidled up next to her as they stepped into the jaws of flame together. There was heat and wind and jets of molten stone – and behind them all, an enormous Leering, blackened and ravaged by the forces compelling it to destroy the innocent. The chains that clutched her wrists and ankles melted in the heat. But no part of her was burned or even blackened with soot. She willed the protection to envelope Malcolm as well. She walked deeper into the throat, seeking the face carved in the rock. It was corrupted, of course. It would not obey her willingly. She prepared for the fight and walked closer, reaching out with her hand to touch it, to tame it, to crush its will with hers.

  A hand closed on top of hers and brought her arm down. Lia turned, surprised. She did not know if Malcolm would survive the blaze. She had not dared to look at him, fearing any sliver of doubt. As she turned, she saw that he was no longer next to her. In his place, there was another man, his face she had not seen since she had sworn the maston oaths at Muirwood.

  Maderos.

  He shook his head slightly. “This way, sister,” he beckoned, drawing her towards the side of the vaulted furnace. Her heart thrilled to see him. As they stood near the side, he waved his hand over the rock and the stone beneath them began to sink and shudder, descending gradually down a well shaft that brought them lower and lower beneath the ground. The shaft opened below into a stone chamber, black and carved of sculpted rock. They were deep beneath the Abbey. After the stone settled, they stepped off it and it quickly asce
nded back up the shaft, floating alone until it plugged the hole and muted the furnace’s roar.

  Maderos nodded to her to follow and and several Leerings erupted with a soft, tranquil light along the walls. The tunnel had been abandoned long ago, but it was not like Muirwood’s, carved out of dirt and earth and braced with timbers and stones. The whole tunnel was carved from stone and the sound of their boots clipped as they walked. It was musty and stale, but firm.

  The light preceded them and opened to a large circular chamber. A stone railing blocked the way forward, which prevented a fall into a deep pit. The lights continued to wink as they circled the chamber from both sides, revealing other corridors leading out of the circular room. As Lia looked down past the rail, she saw a huge basin, an enormous basin, perched on the backs of Leerings in the shape of oxen. A small stone bridge led to the lip of the basin, which was empty.

  “What is this place?” Lia asked, marveling.

  “We are in the depths,” he answered, his voice heavily accented. “It was shut away long ago when the grounds were enlarged. Hmph,” he snorted. “Always getting bigger. But bigger does not mean worth. Bigger does not mean useful. It does not even mean respect. It is a sign of corruption.”

  Lia stared at the vast chamber, feeling the Medium coming strongly from one of the tunnels.

  He saw her gaze and nodded. “That is where you go, but not yet, sister. You are not ready.”

  “It was you on the Holk,” she said.

  He nodded somberly. “I have always been nearby, child. A servant. A sailor. A gardener. But my calling is to write your story. The story of your Family. A story that has spanned a thousand years and will span another thousand years. I engrave it, tome by tome.”

  Lia’s eyes filled with tears. She was so relieved, so grateful to see him, that she grabbed his neck and sobbed against his chest. The horrors she had faced overwhelmed her. Trembling, she clutched him and felt a comforting pat on her back, a gentle sigh in her ear that all would be well.

  “You have done well, child. A little further. Your work is not done. Courage.”

  Mopping her eyes, she nodded and backed away, looking at him piercingly. “What must I do, Maderos?”

  “You must bring the Blight,” he answered. “You must fulfill the warning. But before you enter that passageway, you must be an Aldermaston and you must know the irrevocare sigil. I am here for that purpose. Kneel.”

  Lia slowly dropped to her knees as Maderos reached inside his gardener’s robes and withdrew an ancient jeweled vial. The vial had a gold stopper and had several gemstones encrusted on the ridge. Its craftsmanship was beyond description, with tiny elegant symbols etched into the surface. Maderos removed the stopper and gently tipped the vial over her head.

  “Patience,” he said.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It is oil pressed from fruit in a certain garden in Idumea. The garden is called Semani. The Garden of Semani. It does not sound as grand in your language, but it has deep meanings. It is the anointing oil.”

  Lia felt wetness on her head as the oil seeped into her wild hair. Maderos stoppered the vial and set it back within his robes. Then he placed a hand on her head and made the maston sign.

  “I Gift you by your true name, Eprayim. I Gift you with courage and strength and power in the Medium. I bestow on you the rank of Aldermaston, the servant of all. May you speak no falsehood and honor your oaths. I grant you the demense and grounds of Muirwood Abbey, rightfully and properly to defend them as Aldermaston. To guide those who come there seeking escape. To guide them to Pry-Ree where the ships await. You will do this until you are released from your service or until death takes you. Be it thus so.”

  As he spoke, Lia experienced a flood of warmth descend from the skin of her scalp all the way down to her soles. With the warmth came a weight – intangible, but very real. It was a burden of responsibility, a shifting of responsibility from the Aldermaston of Muirwood to her.

  Lia’s eyes fluttered open in shock. “Is he dead, Maderos? Why did you Gift me with Muirwood? Is he truly dead…?”

  “Hush, child. Too many questions. You must be an Aldermaston to learn the irrevocare sigil. That is all you need know right now. Do not pester me with questions. All will be revealed in time. Stand – you must learn the sigil.”

  Lia rose, her legs trembling. She worried about Muirwood – about what was happening there. The feeling of uneasiness was as palpable as a mist. There was danger and fear. The Abbey was in terrible danger.

  “Look at me,” Maderos said, cupping her chin. “You feel the burden already. I can see it. But you have another duty here to perform. Do you hear me?”

  Lia swallowed, nodding.

  “This is the irrevocare sigil. Watch my hand. You trace this shape in the air with your palm. Think of a block of stone. Down over up and across. A square. There is another square. It starts in the middle and goes this way. It is an eight-pointed star. It is the seal of Zedakah of the first Family. It is the sign he taught his posterity. It is the sign of the Aldermastons, the irrevocare sigil. Whatever you bind with this sign is bound forever, child. You will be commanded by the Medium when to make the sign. If you Gift someone and then make the sign, that Gift will remain with them forever. If you curse someone, the curse will last forever. You can never use it for yourself. You cannot bind someone to yourself or bind yourself to someone. Remember this, child. It is an important responsibility. Never use it against the Medium’s will. Great calamities have happened when that occurs. Do you understand?”

  Lia nodded. “I understand.”

  “You are an Aldermaston now. You have the authority of the irrevocare sigil. Go where the Medium bids you. I will wait for you here.”

  Lia walked carefully around the rim of the circular chamber, staring at the cool light coming from a passageway on the other side. The stones were ancient and carved with masterful details – little patterns of leaves and symbols, cut into the stone and interspersed with glowing blue stones. There was a solemn feeling in the air, a whisper of centuries past. She did not know how long it had been since mastons had walked it, but she felt a peculiar reverence for the place. The pathway led to another tunnel, and from that tunnel, she experienced a Leering calling to her.

  As she stepped into the tunnel, her heart spasmed with fear and terror. It struck her with such force that she nearly screamed and ran. Behind the terror beckoned the Leering, commanding her to come forward. She recognized that the fear was caused by stone faces carved into the archway ahead, their eyes white with power. She silenced them with her mind and they obeyed. The fear departed.

  Walking hesitantly forward, Lia entered a small cupola. It was small enough to admit only a few people, but the space was consumed by a massive boulder. She did not know how the boulder managed to be there in such a confined space, but then realized immediately that the stones had been laid around it, shielding it from the eyes of the world. The boulder was crumbling in places and seemed as ancient as the world. The face was so worn by time that it was unrecognizable. It could have been a man’s or a woman’s face. The stone was smooth, as if touched by the sea for a thousand years. The power emanating from it was fearsome and immense – a huge presence that made her feel like the child she really was. This Leering had stood there for thousands of years. Who carved it and when?

  Instantly she knew. The whispers told her it had been carved by King Zedakah himself. It was nearly as old as the world itself. It had been protected by the elements and safeguarded at Dochte for generations. Lia stared at it in awe. What kind of Leering was it? What powers did it hold?

  Lia hesitated, staring at the face – imagining the man who had carved it. The first Aldermaston. The story of her family. A story that had been written and scrived for thousands of years. She swallowed with nervousness, feeling the weight of the responsibility. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch the stone. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the stone.<
br />
  Knowledge flooded her as she pressed her palm against the Leering.

  It was the Blight Leering – a carving that would summon devastation. In her mind, she saw images from the past whirl by, instances where Aldermastons had been summoned by the Medium to Dochte Abbey to unleash a Blight on the world. Some of the figures she saw in her mind were old men. Some were young. Some were women, of various ages. Always the Medium warned before the destruction came. Always it offered a chance to flee or escape. But throughout the centuries, there would come times when the people were so hardened by the machinations of the hetaera that they would not listen to the whispers of the Medium. They drowned the whispers in drink, in music, in dance, in smoke. They were lured by the wiles of the daughters of Ereshkigal until nothing could save them. In her mind she saw the horrors of what happened when the hetaera ruled. There was murder and lust and actions so terrible it made Lia shrink to even consider what occurred. The only way to reverse it – the only way to bring humanity back to its senses again was the coming of a Blight.

  Lia’s hand began to burn.

  She had never experienced the pain of fire before. She tried to take her hand away, but she could not. Her hand burned, but it was not just the sharp scalding pain of fire. She felt it passing through the Leering to her. The Leerings were just a conduit. They connected two points, bringing together two separate forces, combining them.

  Knowledge of the Blight filled her mind. In the past, the Blight had manifested itself in many forms. Some it had killed by drowning. Some it had killed with famine. This Blight was different.

  The Leering released her.

  Lia nearly stumbled back, staring at her glowing hand. She could not see the Blight, but it was there, cupped in her glowing palm. Instantly, she knew what she had to do. The Medium whispered for her to return to the hetaera garden.