The Blight of Muirwood

by Jeff Wheeler

  He sighed in frustration, squinting at the light coming off the orb. “I am still not being plain enough. Your very presence here tonight is a torture and a comfort to me. Part of me wants to tell you that we cannot leave each other again. Never. That I cannot live without you being near me. But at the same time, I know we cannot. That if we are near each other, it will cause irreparable harm to us both. All my life, I have had duty prescribe to me the appropriate action to take in any circumstance. But right now, my feelings compel me to tell you that I love…” he swallowed, his voice thickening, his eyes seeking hers again, “that I love you. That I have concealed it from myself since you sheltered me in the kitchen and cured me. I did not recognize what the feeling was then. I thought I had mastered it by staying away. I let myself believe that when I returned to Muirwood, I would be able to control my thoughts and feelings as I should. That I would grow to only love you as as sister. I have failed miserably. I should not even be telling you this – not now when we are alone in the mountains. But we are not alone. It must be the Medium that pushes me to tell you, to trust you with my feelings.” He stared into her eyes deeply, full and unguarded at last. “To trust you with a most dangerous secret. To trust you with my heart – my whole heart. Not holding anything back. We cannot be together, Lia. But I had to tell you how I truly feel. And trust that you will not use it to harm us.”

  He had said it. Lia was so relieved to hear the words…to understand she had not been imagining his feelings all this time. She trembled, knowing she would savor his confession for the rest of her days. It brought a strange feeling of calm over her. A feeling of safety and warmth.

  She looked back at him with an impish smile. “What were you afraid of, Colvin? That I would throw myself at you? Twist a promise of marriage out of you if you told me that?”

  He looked at her, bemused.

  “Thank you for telling me your true feelings,” she continued. “They are sacred to me. I will treat them so. Yet I am troubled by something. You say that we can never be together…”

  “We always have a choice in our actions, Lia,” he answered blackly. “But we cannot choose the consequences those choices will produce. I can forsake my heritage. I can forswear my oaths. But I would be miserable if I did. The part of me that longs to live out my days with a brood of children, away from wars and violence clashes with the fact that every maston is being killed and it would only be a matter of time before we were discovered. In giving you the key to my heart, I am asking you to set me free. To not bind me in any way that prevents me from fulfilling my oaths or my duty. You will always know, to your last moments, that it was you that I loved. No one else.”

  It was gratifying to hear the words, but Lia was nothing if not stubborn. “But why, Colvin? Why must the future be as you say? I do not want you to forsake your duty. Not for me. Why insist that it must end like that?”

  He sighed heavily and gazed down at the floor.

  “Look at me,” she said. He obeyed. She met his gaze. “You are right about something. I am not a hetaera.”

  The look of shock that crossed his face almost made her laugh.

  “Be at peace, Colvin. Let me explain how I know that word and what they are. The Queen Dowager is a hetaera. But I am not. I am a maston too, you see.” She smiled at him, pleased at the reaction on his face at her revelation. “I took the oaths after you left with Edmon and your sister. The Aldermaston conferred them. Many of my…my family passed the maston test when they were young.”

  Colvin’s eyes bulged. He sat straight up, his eyes flooding with hope. “Truly, you are a maston, Lia?”

  She nodded. “I crossed the Apse Veil. I wear the chaen.” She timidly held out her palm and showed him the scar that the white stone had burned there. He reached out, staring at it intently, but would not touch it. His expression was full of contradictions – hope, fear, longing, joy, the realization of the possibility that her ancestors were mastons. “You should see yourself. Why are you so shocked? Is the thought of a wretched-maston so horrible to you?”

  He shook his head. “But what of your family? You never knew about them. It is almost too much to hope that you will discover who they are.”

  “The Aldermaston has given me some clues. You and I – we both know they are dead. I tried to use the orb to find them and it did not work. Remember? The Aldermaston said that many of the nobles of Pry-Ree passed the maston test when they were young. He implied that I may be related to the royal house. A cousin of Ellowyn, perhaps.” She looked at him keenly and gently took his hand in hers. “So before you continue with your thoughts that we can have no future, would you leave a little portion of your mind open enough to consider that we just might? You said before that you will only marry a maston. That is my goal too. You also said that you would only be married with an irrevocare sigil. Since we do not know for certain who either of my parents were, perhaps there is just enough reason to hope that one of them came from a line which was bound that way.”

  He looked doubtful. It was plain on his face.

  She let go of his hand and glanced down at the orb with a flush of timidity. “I imagine there would need to be evidence before an Aldermaston would willingly perform a binding ceremony. There is time. I am only fifteen. What I am trying to ask of you, as delicately as I can, is that you give me a chance to prove my lineage.”

  “But what if…?”

  She put her fingers on his mouth to hush him. His breath was warm. His lips were soft, except for the stubble. “If there is a tome in an Abbey somewhere in this realm or any realm that can prove my parentage, then I will find it.” She let her hand fall and blushed at the promising look he gave her. “I am very motivated to try at least.”

  He was quiet and thoughtful.

  “Now it is my turn,” she said, looking down.

  “What?”

  “It is my turn to make a confession.”

  He moved a little closer, his eyes curious and guarded. “There is more? You surprised me already with your news of being a maston.”

  She reached around and fetched the bow sleeve and laid the weapon across her lap. Looking down at it, she smoothed the woolen fabric. “The Aldermaston did not want me to tell anyone. Only he and Maderos know the full truth. You have shared a secret with me that could ruin you. I do the same in return.” She looked up timidly. “The morning…of Winterrowd. The king was watching the battle from a small hill, surrounded by his knights. It was…near to my hiding place. He was in disguise, clutching the standard of Pry-Ree.” She bit her lip, pausing. “I am the one who loosed the arrow that made him fall. The Medium warned me to do it.” She stroked the hard curve of the bow beneath the sleeve. “I do not think I could have hit him from that distance without the Medium guiding me. When it was done, I fainted. Maderos was there when I awoke, engraving in his tome what had happened. I do not think it was an accident that I was there, Colvin. You were supposed to bring me.”

  His look was thunderstruck. “I never suspected you.”

  “Why would you have? I have received all of my hunter training after returning to Muirwood. The Medium wanted justice for all the dead mastons, for the dead of my people. It was no mistake that you were dragged to the Aldermaston’s kitchen unconscious that night. All along Pareigis has been accusing the Aldermaston of plotting the king’s murder. He has done everything he can to shelter me since then, to keep the secret hidden from the world. That is my last secret. Now you know more about me than anyone else.”

  She wanted to to confess her love, but found her feelings surged so intensely she could not find her voice. She shook her head, trying not to cry. She always cried in front of him. It took several deep breaths to calm herself.

  Glancing back at him, she said, “You look tired. I will take the first watch.”

  “Should we light a fire?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. If the cold gets unbearable, I will light it. This is a good shelter.”

  “Very well. Then good night
, Lia,” he whispered, looking at her with warmth.

  She smiled in return and revoked the light from the Cruciger orb. The darkness was thick and intense. She could hear the sound of him shifting, the stretching out on a blanket on the hard charcoal ground. As the wind whispered outside, the groaning of the limbs, she waited thoughtfully, patiently, until she heard his breath come in an even, shallow measure. He was asleep. She knew the sound and it was comforting to her.

  Reaching out to the orb, she thought about candlight – just a little. Just enough to see him. The orb glowed faintly, like the moon. He was facing her, his face relaxed – at peace. The hint of a smile was on his mouth.

  Leaning over him, she bowed closer, listening to the sound of his breath. She touched his eyebrow with the scar, as light as a butterfly. “Good night, my Colvin,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN:

  Grey-Rank

  Colvin’s hand squeezed Lia’s shoulder and she came awake. She blinked quickly, wondering why the ground was so black and then the events of the night returned. Rolling on her back, she looked up at him, watching him fumble through her rucksack until he withdrew two Muirwood apples. He looked at them both, chose one, and handed the more pock-marked one to her. The one that would be sweetest.

  She accepted the apple as she sat up, brushing some of her wild hair from her eyes. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” she asked him pointedly, noticing it was light enough to see. He should have woken her earlier.

  He did not answer, only gave her a smile that made her insides lurch.

  She raised the apple to her nose and smelled it. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes, grateful that their conversation was not just a dream. Everything in the world felt fresh and new and exciting. It was as if a thousand butterflies battled inside her. Opening her eyes, she bit into the fruit and it was as delicious as she anticipated. “I never grow weary of Muirwood apples,” she said. “I have eaten hundreds over my life. They must be from Idumea.”

  Colvin raised his apple to his nose, his eyes scrutinizing hers as he smelled it. “I will never tire of watching you enjoy them.”

  They ate in silence and then shook out their blankets and rolled them up tightly. They each pondered how much further they would have to walk before finding Ellowyn, and what dangers they would face. Even with so many questions, they were comfortable enough with silence, sneaking glances at each other as they stowed the blankets and slung the rucksacks over their shoulders.

  As Lia reached for the orb, a roar sounded in the woods that stopped her cold. It was a keening sound, a sound that went straight down her spine and made her shiver. In all her wanderings in the Bearden Muir, she had never heard a beast make a sound like that.

  Colvin stood bracingly, staring into the woods, his hand on his sword hilt. “What sort of creature was it?” he muttered.

  Lia’s heart froze with fear. The sound was enormous. She had heard the growl of bears and wolves. She knew the piercing cries of elk that sounded so much like a screaming child as well as the shrill noise of falcons and eagles. This was something different – a keening wail broken up by a coughing chuckle, like dogs on a hunt. The throaty sound of some large animal.

  “I do not know it,” Lia said. “Best if we leave.” She withdrew the orb and summoned its power, seeking a safe path off the mountains to find Ellowyn. Again she pictured the girl in her mind, focusing on where she would be.

  The roar sounded again, closer. Her heart leapt with fear and the orb faltered for a moment. Then the spindles showed the way.

  “Quickly, Colvin,” Lia murmured. She strung the bow, noticing that her hands were shaking. She readied another full quiver of arrows against her leg and brought one out and rested it on the string, holding it firm with her finger. They left the barren cave made of tree roots and started down the mountainside. It was much faster going than the previous day. Mist shrouded the mountaintop, not as thick as in Muirwood, but thick enough to hide the immediate surroundings from them, giving the beast a good amount of cover.

  “I pray it is not a grey-rank,” Colvin said, his hand still on his hilt. They walked swiftly, watching the ground for broken rocks that would trip them, but glancing backwards into the mist.

  “What is that?” Lia asked, for she had not heard of them.

  “They are beasts that live in the high country. They are big, like bears, with gray fur and claws. They walk like men. I have heard the rumors but very few ever see them. I did not remember the myth until I heard the roar.”

  As Lia listened to Colvin’s words, her ears picked out the sound of crunching steps, heavy and spread wide apart coming down the mountain behind them. She swung to a halt, spinning around with her bow and pulled the shaft back to her ear. Colvin’s blade rang as it cleared the scabbard.

  The following footsteps silenced.

  A spasm of fear shot through her, primal – like the Myriad Ones, except she did not sense their typical mewling around her body. The feeling was in the fog.

  “What is it?” Colvin whispered.

  “I heard something following us.” She waited, gazing into the mist. Studying the trees for any sign of a shape. It worried her even more that the sound had stopped. Beasts reacted by instinct. A bear intent on attacking charged straight ahead. A beast could not reason.

  Something moved in her vision on the right. There was no sound. She spun and aimed, but she only saw the shadow of a giant redwood.

  “Let us go. And listen,” she warned, turning around and heading down the mountainside. Colvin followed, but he kept his sword in his hand. As they walked, the sound of crunching steps began to follow again.

  “It feels like the Medium,” Colvin whispered. It was cold but his face was wet with dewdrops. “Does not it?”

  “Yes, like a Leering,” Lia admitted. “But it is behind us and following. A Leering cannot move. As we get further, the feeling should be fading.”

  “A warning then,” Colvin said. “Check the orb.”

  She was afraid it would not work. She was terrified. “I better not,” she whispered. “I cannot control my feelings. I think we should run.”

  “Run?”

  The feeling of dread was so intense it made her sick. She grabbed his hand and together they ran down the mountain. Each bony step jarred at her legs and knees, but she did not care. They ran hand-in-hand as they had off the Tor. No horsemen in black this time, something huge and menacing. She could hear it now, the crunch and crack of it as it rushed down the mountain after them. The mist grew thicker.

  “Stop!” Colvin warned, squeezing her hand and pulling her. They had almost ran into a tree. Her chest was burning with the run, but the fear had not diminished. It was getting worse. Even after they stopped, the sound of crashing and stamping continued. There was a growl and a huff in the fog behind them. The size of it sent shudders through her.

  Colvin spun around, sticking his sword tip into the dirt at his feet. He raised his arm in the maston sign. It brought back all of her memories of the Abbey – the feelings of safety, the chaen that she wore. She set down her bow and mimicked the sign.

  “We are mastons, Lia,” he said hoarsely. “We hold dominion over this world and any creature from it. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes,” she said, almost sobbing with fear.

  Colvin jutted out his jaw. The sound of the pursuit slowed. A snuffling noise came through the mist. As Lia watched, a hulking shadow could be seen in the fog.

  “We are mastons,” Colvin told her bracingly. “We will leave the mountains in peace. It will sense that, Lia. It will sense our intentions. Hold your hand steady. Show no fear.”

  She clenched her teeth, wanting nothing more than to pick up her bow and send a shaft into it. But what damage would her arrows do to something so big? Even Colvin’s sword seemed like a pitiful weapon.

  Lia struggled to subdue her panic. The creature hesitated just beyond the pale of vision. A low growl came from its mouth. A snuffling noise th
at disturbed the air like a wheezing hiss. The mist concealed it, showing only a shadow of its bulk. A smell of rottenness and decay flowed into her nose and mouth. She gagged.

  Colvin stood firm, hand in the air, willing it to depart. She could feel his thoughts pressing from his eyes, exuding from his entire body. He was the master of the situation, not the beast. It must pay homage to him. Lia’s courage was bolstered by his. She also sent her thoughts at it, demanding it to depart. Together, their intent shuddered the air.

  All at once, the mist began to lift. It did not reveal the creature. It was gone.

  Relief swelled inside her chest. After waiting a moment more, they fetched their weapons. When they turned, they saw the mountainside ended abruptly off a jagged cliff, not a dozen paces more from where they had stopped. Lia gasped and clutched at Colvin’s tunic. Had they continued their blind charge down the mountain, they would have run directly over it. The clearing mist revealed the danger.

  It also revealed an Abbey nestled in the crags below.

  * * *

  It was an Abbey hidden in the mountains. It was not the same size as Muirwood. It was more squat and square, rising with a steeple towards the jagged cliffs that dwarfed it. They approached from the rear, and from the mountainside Lia could see the cloister hidden in its shadow, with several small buildings connected with stone and mortar representing the different abodes for crafts. What struck her eyes immediately was the fact that she could not see anyone roaming the grounds. There were no learners walking between the cloister. In fact, it looked overgrown. The grounds were lush and thick, not trimmed by sickles. Wildflowers grew throughout the expanse. It looked abandoned. There was, however, smoke rising from the hall of the main manor, outside the Abbey walls. There was also a small garden, blocked off by rings of stone where vegetables and fruit trees grew. It was a small patch, though. Quail and deer trespassed across the grounds. She studied the scene, watching closely.