by Jeff Wheeler
“But how did you know where to go?” Maia asked, grabbing his wrist and holding tight.
He smiled. “We were at Muirwood, lass. Do you know how many Aldermastons are there right now? By Cheshu, one from each kingdom, at the least!” He sighed and rested a bit, his green eyes roaming the ruins around them. “Go to the lost abbey, they said. And so I did. You left a trail easy to follow, I warrant you.” He sighed, his eyelids drooping.
Maia looked up and saw the sun fading quickly. As she stared at it, feeling gratitude and concern for her friend, she noticed someone approaching from the abbey ruins above. An older man with a long, gnarled stick poked his way down the path at a breakneck pace. She recognized him instantly.
“Maderos,” she whispered in surprise.
“What?” Jon Tayt muttered. He tried to lift his head and failed. Maia cradled his head in her lap, watching as the crooked-legged man made his way toward them.
Maderos was fat around the middle, his dark wiry hair silvered with gray. He paused to rest for a moment on the gnarled staff. His tunic was spattered with dirt and dust, and she could see the gleam of the chaen from his collar.
Jon Tayt’s eyes closed, his head drooping.
“Jon!” Maia begged with concern, clutching his shirt to shake him.
“Let him rest, little sister,” Maderos crooned with a wry smile. “He has not slept in many days, and he suffers a grievous wound.”
Maia bit her lip as she watched the steady rise and fall of the hunter’s chest. She stroked his chest and plucked a piece of bark from his tangled beard. In a moment, he started to snore, and the sound brought a wash of relief through her.
“Will he live?” Maia asked the wayfarer.
Maderos lifted his eyebrows. “I write the words after they happen, sister. Not before. Time heals. We shall see. But Muirwood needs you now. You must leave.”
Maia stared at the bearded face, agonizing over the thought of leaving him so injured. But she felt the Medium’s will clanging in her skull like a bell. She gently set Jon Tayt’s head down on the heath. She stroked the copper curls off his damp forehead, feeling such deep tenderness for her friend. She had lost Argus. The thought of losing Jon Tayt too tortured her. It was painful leaving him.
“Come,” Maderos offered, holding out his hand. “It is time.”
She looked at the sinking sun again, watching as it descended toward the horizon. “Is there time, Maderos?” she asked. “Something terrible will happen at sunset. The Medium has been warning me of it.”
“Yes, little sister. We must hurry. Hold my arm.” He offered his elbow to her and led her back up the hill toward the ruins, his other hand wielding his staff. Instead of taking her toward the black gap of the hetaera’s lair, he walked along to the left. They passed broken pillars and moldering stone. A few birds called down from the branches, the only witnesses of their presence in the woods. She glanced back one last time to the fallen bodies of the hunter and the kishion.
Maia had wandered the grounds on her first visit with the kishion, but she did not remember this area. A few toppled columns had fallen into each other. As she approached, she felt the presence of a Leering. She recognized it from earlier—it was the one that was causing the curse on the land. It was a Blight Leering. Maderos took her to it, crossing a broken archway that no longer supported anything.
The Blight Leering was a massive boulder surrounded by crumbling fragments of stone. The face on the Leering was so worn by time that she could not determine if it was a man or a woman. The boulder was smooth, almost polished. She felt power radiating from it, summoning the sickness and poisons that scarred the cursed shores. It brought the wolf spiders, the ticks, the venomous serpents. It created a haven that the Fear Liath was happy to call home. Power had been emanating from it for centuries, destroying the land bit by bit.
She felt the urge to touch it.
Maia reached forth her hand, but Maderos stopped her.
“You can silence it, child,” he said respectfully, blocking her hand. “But do not touch it. The Blight is not what you must unleash upon the Naestors.” He extended the staff and gestured to the ruins. “You must rebuild this abbey and safeguard these Leerings. End the Blight on this land. It will become an inheritance for those you trust. Those from Assinica and other lands who wish to stay here.”
Maia nodded. In her mind, using her Gift of Invocation, she silenced the Blight Leering. The power thrumming through the boulder quieted. A breeze wafted into the ruins, and Maia heard the flutter of silk. Turning, she saw another archway by the toppled columns at the perimeter of the ruin, nearer to the rubble of the lost abbey. It was an Apse Veil.
Maderos smiled. “When you were in the tunnel, you sensed this place, sister,” he told her. “Back when you first came here. The Medium whispered to you. It invited you to come to this place, but Ereshkigal clouded your mind. She made you fear what you did not know. Now that you have opened the Apse Veil again, you can pass back to Muirwood. You must save them, Maia.”
Her heart dreaded the conflict, but she steeled herself. “I do not want to destroy the Naestors, Maderos.”
He gave her another slightly crooked smile. “Of course, child. Why do you think the Medium has chosen you?” He patted her hand. “You will be remembered long after this second life has ended. Your memory will give others courage to live, to be what the Medium wishes them to become. Go now, sister. Return to your kingdom.”
Maia started toward the billowing veil, but she hesitated before walking through it. “But what must I do, Maderos?”
He rested his arms on the mushroom-shaped top of the staff. “Is it really so difficult? Open your mind, child. Open your heart. The answer is there, if you will only believe it is possible. Do not doubt. Believe.”
Maia looked into the aging man’s eyes for a moment. Behind him, she saw the sun sinking low—a reminder that time was passing. It was going to be a glorious sunset, like the many she had enjoyed while walking the grounds of Muirwood.
The answer came to her in a thought, so small it almost passed without notice. She stared at the rays of sunlight, felt its warmth bathing her face.
It was so simple.
All she needed to do was stop the sun from setting.
Carved into the walls of every abbey there were Leerings with faces. The Leerings on the outer walls typically bore the faces of the sun, the moon, and the stars. These were light Leerings, enabling the abbey to glow at night and provide light to the grounds. But they could do so much more than that . . .
With her mind fixed on those Leerings, Maia stepped through the Apse Veil in the ruins of the lost abbey and emerged in Muirwood. She instantly felt the stains of her wounds and the filth and dirt she had carried with her, but she did not allow her thoughts to linger on them. There were mastons inside the temple—the entire place seemed full of people speaking in low voices, wearing maston robes. Many she did not recognize. Towering above those around him because of his height, she recognized Tomas, who had been Richard Syon’s steward and now served Aldermaston Wyrich. When he saw her rush out from beyond the Rood Screen, his eyes widened with complete surprise and twin dimples appeared on his cheeks.
“Lady Maia!” he gasped, maneuvering through the crowd to reach her. “My lady! You came!” His look of cheer turned in an instant to worry and concern. “They have the Aldermaston . . . they have Richard Syon! He surrendered to them this morning so he could offer them a truce. He is to be put to death. Everyone has gathered outside, my lady. This way!”
His face pinched with concern as he took in her appearance. “You are wounded!”
“I am well enough, Tomas. Take me!”
She marched with him, passing dozens and hundreds of onlookers. A crowd began to follow behind her as she hurried to the abbey doors, which were opened for her before she reached them.
“Where is Aldermaston Wyrich?” Maia pressed.
“He returned with the warriors he led and has gathered the choir outs
ide the abbey,” Tomas answered. “They were going to start singing at sunset, to calm our people’s fear.”
The inner grounds of the abbey were packed with people of all ages and ranks. The choir from Assinica had gathered along a few rows of benches lining the abbey wall. Standing before them, she saw Aldermaston Wyrich. He was staring at the horizon, where the sun was just touching the border between land and sky. Long shadows were painted across the ground. The people were sitting together in a mass, waiting for the music to start.
“Aldermaston!” Tomas called, gesturing with his long arms.
Aldermaston Wyrich turned, his gray hair gleaming in the sunlight. He saw Maia, and his serious frown broke into a brilliant smile. He rushed forward to take her hands. “The Medium whispered that you were coming,” he said smiling. “I had almost given up hope.”
“Where is King Gideon?” Maia asked.
“Walking toward us now,” the Aldermaston replied, gesturing.
Maia whirled and saw Collier striding through the dense crowd, his eyes wide with delight. He was walking! She had not dared to hope she would see him this improved.
“My lady, Richard Syon is with the Naestors,” Wyrich said gravely. “They plan to execute him at sunset. I had hoped your coming would prevent it . . . but I do not see how.”
“It will, Aldermaston. Cling to that hope,” she told him.
She left the two men and rushed to Collier, who scooped her into his arms. She reveled in how strong and hale he looked—how alive. His eyes were bright as the blue sky, and in their reflection she could see the fading sunlight. She touched his face, her heart thrilling.
“Maia,” he breathed, holding her close, hugging her fiercely.
She squeezed him as hard as she could, reveling in his continued life, ignoring for just a moment the vast crowds staring at them, then she pulled away and took his hands.
“The Naestors,” he said. “They will attack tonight. We have tried to hold them back. To hold off killing them. But if they attack the abbey, we are certain they will be destroyed.” He took her hands in his and clenched them hard. She could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the worry for so many lives that would be lost. “They do not know what they are doing!”
“And so we must teach them,” Maia said. Still clinging to his hand, she turned and faced Muirwood Abbey. The light Leerings from the abbey were starting to glow, the eyes already brightening. She sensed the Leerings, felt their awareness of her, their eagerness to respond to her thoughts. The Medium swelled inside her breast and tingled down to her fingers, entwined with Collier’s.
It felt as if a huge vault were opening inside her mind, metal grating against stone. The power of the Medium unfurled from her igniting every Leering within the abbey and outside. Her mind stretched, expanding until she could see every creature gathered on the grounds, then moved past the grounds, showing her the Naestors encamped in the valleys below. Her vision went farther still, spanning the country in an instant—she could feel the lives of every man, woman, and child as if in a single heartbeat.
Maia turned, feeling the weight of the Medium crush down on her shoulders, as if she were lifting the Tor itself. She stared at the sun, the dying embers of light slipping over the edge of the world.
Make it return, she commanded in her mind.
The Leerings in the abbey obeyed her. She felt the effigies of the sun, moon, and stars brighten, their power emanating into the nascent night. Their power was joined by that of the Leerings in distant abbeys in other realms, as if they were all anchors, weighing the sun in place and preventing it from being carried off.
The light in the sky seemed to wobble and then the sun started to rise again. Not from the east, but from the west. It rose in its majesty and splendor, bathing the walls with its light and warmth.
The looks of astonishment on the faces around her made her almost smile through the strain. If Collier had not been holding her, she would have collapsed.
It made sense to her. The Naestors were from the north, a land of darkness and cold. They were a superstitious people. Nothing would startle them or convince them of the power of the Medium more than seeing the very sun they worshipped obey the maston order. The shadows began to retreat.
Gasps of surprise came from everywhere around her. And then there was singing. The choir from Assinica was singing the same anthem they had sung at her coronation. Their voices were full of the Medium, inviting and invoking it, and their wordless chant spread a melodious wave of peace and serenity.
The sun continued to rise, pulled by the Leerings embedded in the abbey walls. The night was not beginning. It was day again.
“My love,” Maia whispered to Collier, feeling her strength ebb. All she had endured came crashing down on her. Weakness broke her to pieces. She slumped against his chest, feeling the sunlight warm her cheeks as blackness carried her away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Covenant of Muirwood
Maia did not know how long she slept. She did not dream, which was in itself a blessing. As she gradually surfaced to consciousness, she sensed the soft mattress and blankets around her. The bedding smelled like the laundry soap the lavenders used at Muirwood and the scent of purple mint. She was aware of a dull, pulsing pain in her arm and shoulder as she slowly began to move. And then she felt lips press tenderly against her forehead and strong fingers entwine with her own.
“Are you awake?” Collier whispered faintly.
She blinked and saw her love hovering above her, sitting on the edge of her bed in the Aldermaston’s manor. A Leering gave off a dim light, filling the room with supple shadows.
“Tell me this is not a dream,” Maia answered, gazing up at him. She lifted her arm and saw she was wearing a nightgown. As the sleeve dropped down, she saw the ugly gashes Murer’s dagger had given her.
Collier gazed at the wounds, his expression hardening. “Did he do that to you?”
Maia knew who he meant. The kishion. “No, it was Murer. I faced her at the hetaera Leering. She is dead now. So is he.”
He closed his eyes, as if uttering a silent prayer of thanks.
Then he opened them again. “We sent Jon Tayt after you,” Collier said, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand. “He found you?”
She tried to pull herself into a sitting position and winced with sudden pain. “He did, and I left him gravely wounded. Can you send someone? Can you send someone to save him?”
“Of course. Let me help you up,” he offered. He arranged some pillows against the wooden headboard and helped her sit up, his strong arms shifting her easily.
“She is awake?” Suzenne said from across the room. She walked into Maia’s line of vision, looking tired and worn, but relieved. “I have been holding back the flood of people who want to see you,” she said with a warm smile. “I only let this one in after much persuasion.” She nodded and gave Collier a genuine smile.
Because there were no windows, she did not know what time of day it was. “How long have I been sleeping?” Maia asked, wrinkling her nose.
Collier smirked and glanced at Suzenne. “It should be about midnight, by our best estimation.” He looked at Maia with a wry smile. “It is a little difficult to tell, since the sun is directly overhead right now. Everyone is walking the grounds, gazing at the sky in wonderment.” He gave her a pointed look. “The Aldermastons are all wondering when you intend to release the Leerings you invoked so that things can return to their normal state.” He smiled and caressed her cheek.
Maia could hardly believe it. “I thought it would end the moment I collapsed—”
He shook his head. “Oh no, my love. You caught the sun in a net and captured it. People want to know what you intend to do with it next. The Naestors, as you can imagine, are terrified out of their wits. They have sued for peace and are imploring all the Aldermastons—there are several here right now, I should mention—to entreat you to release the sun before it scorches the earth. Richard Syon asked to be informed
the moment you awakened.” He tucked strands of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her skin a moment, making her shiver with pleasure.
“I suppose it would not be proper to greet anyone in my nightclothes,” Maia said. She was aching and sore, but she felt rested and peaceful. She was afraid the tranquility was like a soap bubble and would burst in an instant, but she reveled in it nonetheless.
“Suzenne has a gown chosen for you,” Collier said. “And it meets with my approval. I will go while you change.” He started to rise from the bed, but she caught his hand and shook her head.
“No,” she said. “There is a changing screen over there, and Suzenne is here to chaperone us.” She gave him a longing look. “I cannot bear to be parted from you. Ever again.” She squeezed his arm tightly, begging him to stay with her eyes.
Perhaps they were the words he most needed to hear. He looked humbled and a bit shaken, but he did not attempt to leave. He helped her rise gingerly from the bed, and as she walked slowly over to the changing screen, Suzenne holding her arm, she saw him wander to the dressing table and take up a comb. He turned and winked at her knowingly.
Maia would have savored soaking in a tub, but there was not time for that—nor would it have been appropriate, considering the company. She asked Collier dozens of questions about what had happened to him and how he had managed to take the maston test in secret, but he would only promise to tell her all later, when they were alone in the garden.
