The Blight of Muirwood (49 page)

“Be you safe,” she said gruffly. “Come back to us when your duty is finished.”

Lia ached. She felt the tears sting her eyes as she saw her friends smothering him with attention. It was painful beyond enduring. Who would protect him if not her? Who would guide him when the way was lost? It was agony thinking about being in Muirwood without him. No more walks in the Cider Orchard. Not to see him at the laundry while she scrubbed clothes. His fierce gaze turned back to look at her, his jaw clenched with visible pain.

Edmon saw the look between them. He whispered something in Sowe’s ear and she nodded, wiping tears from her eyes and taking Pasqua by the arm and she and Bryn pulled her outside the kitchen into the fresh morning air just as the sky began to shine. Edmon said something to Demont and Ellowyn and escorted them outside as well, leaving Colvin alone on the threshold. Edmon glanced back and shut the door after himself.

Colvin stood rooted in place for a moment, rucksack dangling from his shoulder. Then he let it fall with a thump and he marched across the room and pulled Lia into a fierce hug. Lia swallowed with pain and pleasure, ignoring the little jolts of agony that came and hugged him back, sorrowing that she was losing him again. She smelled his hair, his leather jerkin, the scent of his skin – inhaled him all in one final memory, squeezing him until her hand throbbed and her side ached and her leg moaned with the motion.

“How I love you,” she whispered to him, feeling him tense at the words. “Please come back to me. Please take care of yourself. Every day you will be in my thoughts and I will be pleading for your safety. The Medium will protect you both. I have faith in that.”

She felt his sigh, his body tremble. Then pulling away slightly, he looked at her with inexpressible pain and longing in his eyes. It was the look of a man being tortured. “This is a hard thing,” he whispered. “Leaving you like this. I can hardly bear it. Will you help me? Will you…Gift me, Lia?”

A smile creased her mouth. “If you want me to.”

He knelt at the edge of the bed and bowed his head so she could reach it. She made the maston sign while she touched his hair. What could she say? It was her first time pronouncing one herself. What would the Medium require of him? Her thoughts were a jumble, all confused. She knew what she wanted to say, but she knew it had to come from the Medium and not her. “Colvin Price,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I gift you with…I gift you with…” She paused, searching through her contorting feelings for the right words. Then she felt it – a spark of warmth and assurance. An insight into his needs. “I gift you with wisdom and knowledge. That you may discern through the illusions and see things as they really are. As they really must be. By Idumea’s hand, make it so.”

The Medium was a warm blanket that fell around their shoulders. It was comforting and peaceful. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the sobs that would come later. He raised his head and stared in her eyes. His iron will had asserted itself again. He rose slowly from the bed and stared down at her. “I will come back to you. That is my promise. I will not break it this time.”

She smiled at him, feeling the tears burn in her eyes as she watched him leave again.

* * *

“While the Medium reveals itself in many forms and can come as a dramatic manifestation, it usually does not. Some mastons think they need to experience the full, raw power of the Medium before they are convinced of its possibilities. If we have unrealistic notions of how, when, or where the Medium reveals itself, we risk missing the tokens which come as quiet, reassuring feelings and thoughts while we are doing something else. These simple manifestations of the Medium can be equally convincing and powerful as the dramatic ones. Over time we learn how this works. It is something each maston learns for himself.”

- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey

* * *

The Aldermaston revived after three days. Word traveled through Muirwood as fast the birds in springtime. Pasqua rallied the kitchen to begin its work of feeding him and Lia was secretly relieved for the news. The kitchen began to hum and thrive, with Sowe and Bryn bending over balls of dough or brushing butter around the edge of a crust. Lia watched with jealousy, wishing she was active again. Each day was less painful than the one before it, though her heart was heavy. Word had come that Colvin and Ellowyn were bound on a ship for Dahomey out of Bridgestow. Garen Demont was still a guest at the Abbey and he treated his stay there as such, asking for permission from Prestwich instead of giving orders as if it were his own earldom. He deferred to the Abbey’s authority in all things.

“Sowe, can you slice the apples? He likes it in chunks. Bryn, up the ladder with you. Fetch a pumpkin. Go on, girl. Make haste! I am sure the Aldermaston is very hungry. I would like to have something ready quickly. Oh, that I had a spare shank to roast. Maybe I should send for the butcher.”

The kitchen door opened, letting in the blinding sunlight. Pasqua turned to bark in annoyance and stopped when she recognized the Aldermaston. Prestwich was there, gripping the old man’s arm to help keep him up.

“Aldermaston, we will bring the food to you,” Pasqua said, looking rattled at seeing him to soon. “We are working as fast as we can. Sowe, Sowe..!”

“I am not hungry,” the Aldermaston said, his voice choked and low. He coughed into his fist, his whole body wracked with spasms. Prestwich clutched him to keep him on his feet, whispering soothingly to him. “Please…I must speak with Lia. If you would all leave us for a moment. I must consult with her.”

Lia stared at him. He looked even older and his eyes burned as if he had a fever. Prestwich helped walk him towards the bed.

“But…” Pasqua hedged, obviously distressed about being dismissed from her own kitchen.

But the Aldermaston did not speak further. Slowly, step by step, he approached, his eyes fixed on Lia’s. Prestwich helped him sit and then stood away.

“Even you, old friend,” the Aldermaston whispered. Prestwich nodded with a surly look and left the kitchen, as did the others. Pasqua grumbled indignantly but soon the door was shut and a hush fell over the kitchen, except for the snap and crack of the fire.

Lia reached out and took the old man’s hand with hers. She squeezed it, giving him a look of warmth and respect. Her throat choked with tears. It was such a relief to see him awake, his dark eyebrows arched over his fiery eyes. “What is it you would tell me?” she asked hoarsely.

He looked at her intently. “I have learned what happened three days ago. I have learned of your injuries. I know that Colvin has taken…her…to Dahomey because of the writing on the Cruciger orb. How were you able to read it, child? What did it say?”

She swallowed, leaning back against the pillows, and told the story of their journey through Pry-Ree and the arrival at Tintern Abbey. He listened carefully, waiting with great curiosity, great interest on his face. She spoke of their return, Dieyre’s betrayal, and the flight through the Bearden Muir. He listened carefully, saying nothing until she was finished.

“The Aldermaston of Tintern,” he whispered, his eyes gazing down at the bed. “He knew you? He…recognized you?”

“Yes, but he would not say who I am. When I am well, I should like to go back and speak to him. I wish he had told me what he knew.”

The Aldermaston grunted. “He cannot, child.”

Lia looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I am sure the Medium binds his tongue. So they have gone to Dahomey.” He sighed deeply. “That is where it will begin. That is where it will start.”

“What?” Lia asked, her stomach coiling with worry. “The Blight?”

He nodded. “I saw it in vision. I saw what Aldermastons in many countries have been seeing. We have all seen the colors of the leaves changing, predicting the passing of a season. But I have seen the result. I have seen the skeletal trees remaining when all the leaves have fallen. It is a Blight greater than any other we have known. A sickness and plague that will destroy everyone. Everyone. Not a man, woman, or child will survive it when it comes. Its devastation will be complete. Total. It will be the end of all kingdoms.” His look burned into hers. “I have seen it in my mind. There is only one way to save ourselves and that is to abandon these shores. The exodus has already begun. The Aldermaston of Tintern told you of it.”

“Yes,” Lia said. “There are boats. They are building ships. Some have already departed. But why Pry-Ree? Why were they given the warning first? Why is it that you did not see it coming?”

He rocked slowly back and forth, his expression pained but thoughtful. “Pry-Ree was a proud kingdom. Too proud. You have heard Martin speak of it. That they succumbed swiftly to their fate and their princes all were killed. I would disagree with part of his assessment. Many of their princes were strong with the Medium. They knew what was going to happen. The people did not heed their leaders, and so the leaders were taken away. The people focused on earning coins through trade and bringing in the latest spices and metals from other realms and not on learning from tomes. So the Medium abandoned them in their hour of need. As a result of their humiliating defeat, they have learned humility. Only by being broken were they able to see that their aim was fixed on the wrong course. The humility of their people gave their Aldermastons vision. Some pine for the old days of glory. But in the end, it is the fall of Pry-Ree that will save us all.”

Lia shivered with the thought. “What must we do then?”

“We must ask them to save us.” His face twisted with pain and regret. “But do you see the trouble, Lia? We are too proud ourselves. We, the conquerors. Can you imagine someone like the Earl of Dieyre asking that forsaken people for help? Begging aid from a nation so humbled? They who hate us and we hate them? Some would rather die. Most will not even believe the situation is so dire. They will not believe because they do not want to believe. Because it would alter their view of the world.”

She remembered something Ciana had told her once.
We are slow to believe that which if believed would hurt our feelings.

He shook his head with sadness. “I will do what I can to tell the other Aldermastons. With our kingdom on the cusp of war, there is much to distract us from this threat.”

“Have you told Demont?” Lia asked.

“No, I wanted to tell you first,” he said. “You know the way to Tintern Abbey. With the orb, you can lead a remnant there. Perhaps that is your purpose.” He smiled at her fondly. “Have you felt your strength returning? Muirwood is strong with the Medium. You will heal faster here than anywhere else you could go. Not because Siara is such a good apothecary. The Abbey itself strengthens the mastons who swore their oaths here. You will be walking again soon. And you must. Your journey has not ended here.”

“You said the Blight would begin in Dahomey?” she asked. “Do you know where?”

He nodded, his face grave with inner pain. “Yes.”

The insight struck her like a blow. “It begins in Dochte Abbey, does not it? It will begin when that Abbey falls?”

The Aldermaston said nothing for a moment. His face hardened like stone. “But they will be warned first. They will be warned.” He sighed deeply.

“You know something that you cannot tell me,” Lia whispered.

A half-smile was her reply. Slowly, he rose from the bedside.

“What will you do with Scarseth?” she asked curiously. “Will you send him away with the other prisoners?”

He paused. “What do you think I should do with him?”

“I do not know. Maybe we should keep him here.”

“And his voice?” the Aldermaston asked, his expression inscrutable.

“He may know where Colvin’s sister is. There is much he could tell us. If we showed him mercy.” It felt right to her, even after all he had done. It felt right to show him mercy.

He looked back at her, his eyes piercing. “You would show him compassion? He who has betrayed you and tried to kill you? Who may betray you again?”

Lia swallowed, realizing the Aldermaston’s question was more towards himself than her. Had not Scarseth done both to him as well? There was a history between the men. A history of anger and distrust. “That is what I think we should do. If he seeks forgiveness.”

The Aldermaston gave her a wary smile. “Very well, Lia. For your sake. The Medium presses heavily on me now. You are unfit for your duties. There is time to heal and rest. Do you know what position he always craved when he was a wretched here?”

She shook her head.

“He wanted to be a hunter,” came the reply. “Maybe it is time he had the chance.”

* * *

Lia stood at the edge of the hill, looking down at the vast lake in front of her. Muirwood and the village were completely isolated from the roads. Trees were submerged. Water lapped on the grass lower down. A few hawks swirled in the sky, drifting on a lazy wind. It looked so different than what she had seen all her life and she said as much to her companion, Seth.

“Even without the lake, it was different than when I was here,” he offered, pointing towards the forbidden portion of the grounds. “There was a cemetery there. Some were dug into the hillside, even.” He grinned and then winced at the memories. “When I was a lad.”