The Ciphers of Muirwood (28 page)

What he did not surmise or understand was what would happen to Maia once she left the grounds. Ereshkigal was probably waiting just outside the wall, ready to pounce and claim the body she had previously stolen.

Jon Tayt—I need you!

She sent the thought into the wind, hoping he would hear her. She focused her thoughts, her emotions, her intensity on that one wish, desperate to summon the abbey hunter to her aid. Collier would be blind to the mists. Her grandmother was inside the abbey—what could she do in time? But Argus could use her scent to track her, succeeding where others would fail.

Find me! Cider Orchard, nearing the end of the wall.

Maia felt the rhythm slow. As it did, she could hear the mewling sounds of the Myriad Ones in the distance. It felt as if she were nearing the shores of a vast lake, the waters rippling along the edge. The abbey was the dry ground; the rest of the world was the lake. As her captors continued to move toward the edge of the abbey grounds, she could feel the force of the Myriad Ones’ thoughts pressing against hers—hungry, sniffling, greedy to taste her again. Once more, her heart began to hammer in terror, and she struggled against her bonds. She felt the tether burning the skin at her wrists as she struggled to slip her hands through.

They left the protection of the abbey grounds.

Maia knew the instant it happened. The feeling of warmth and
protection she had experienced upon coming to Muirwood vanished like a candle guttered by a storm. Feelings of blackness and despair enveloped her, worse than the bonds and the hood and the choking gag. She could feel the voracious, mewling creatures surround the soldiers, who seemed oblivious to the taint of their black presence—perhaps because they were so accustomed to it. To Maia,
they felt like smoke that choked her lungs and stung her eyes.

“Thank you, Sheltin,” the sheriff said. “The king wants her tonight. I need to return to the grounds to lead the search when it is discovered she is missing, and keep them away from our trail. Graves will go with you to make sure she arrives safely.”

Maia felt the nuzzling pressure of the Myriad Ones as they swarmed her body. She began kicking again, not against the soldiers, but against the invasive, violating touch of the Myriad Ones. The ropes and bonds were nothing compared to the awful feeling of the creatures worming against her clothes.

You are us. You are part of us.

Join us, Sister! Choose us! We are your flesh!

We are your bones.

You are us and we are you.

Let me have her first.

Maia wept bitterly as the mark on her shoulder started to burn and her thoughts began to cloud. She focused her will, champing on the gag with all her strength. The Myriad Ones were relentless, and she felt the blackness begin to invade her mind.

“Take her,” said the sheriff grimly.

She struck the ground with a heavy jolt. Shouts and grunts sounded all around her. The sudden impact of falling made her unable to breathe, and she blacked out for a moment. As soon as she came to, she wriggled with renewed violence and managed to free her wrists from the bonds. A grunt of pain sounded, and something collapsed next to her head. Maia’s wrists stung and felt wet with blood, but she had freed her hands, and she began squirming through the wrappings, trying to loosen the ropes around her arms as she tugged at the bonds around her knees.

“Run! Run for the village! Run for—
och
!” She heard the sound of gurgling breath cut off by a blade.

Another thump followed by another. Maia rocked on her shoulders, trying to change position and escape the bonds. She was desperate to free herself—not just from the Myriad Ones, but from whatever was attacking the sheriff’s men.

“I am the sheriff of Mendenhall!” came a scream, the voice warbling with fear. “Stay back! Stay back!” She heard his last breath hiss out of him.

The Myriad Ones were feasting on the death and carnage, their thoughts suddenly loose from her. They lapped up the emotions of the dying, whimpering with pleasure at the taste of the shock, fear, and horror.

A knife slit the ropes around her arms, knees, and ankles. The bags and bonds were flung away from her. She heard heavy breathing, the sound of a man tired by effort. Maia wrenched the hood from her head, her hair sticking to her face.

Crouched over her, sweat dropping down his nose, she saw the kishion holding a bloodied dagger.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Kishion

T
he Myriad Ones were all around her, thick as the vapors of mist shrouding the air. Although Maia was free from the bonds, she was not certain if she was truly free.

The darkness concealed much of the kishion’s expression, but she recognized the size and bulk of him, and he radiated that same awful menace she remembered from the weeks they had traveled together. A shiver of fear went through her body as she watched the puffs of mist from his harried breathing.

“You saved me,” Maia whispered, her voice trembling. She was waiting for him to speak, dreading to know his intentions for her. He had poisoned her mother. She could not forget that, nor could she trust him.

“As you saved me,” he said with a thick, almost raspy voice. She had not heard him speak in some time and had almost forgotten the harsh timbre of his voice. “On another night . . . in another mist. Do you remember?”

“Of course,” Maia answered, struggling to her feet. He lurched toward her, and she flinched from the bloodied knife in his hand, her abdomen still bearing a scar from a wound he had given her as a warning in the cursed woods of Dahomey.

He chuckled derisively and grabbed her arm to help her stand. “I am not here to hurt you, Maia. You need not fear me.” There was something in his voice, some strange feeling she could not understand. He wiped his blade on his hip, then sheathed it, still clutching her arm.

The Myriad Ones mewled in the fog, prodding and sniffing at her, enveloping her in determined thoughts, and she felt herself almost faint. Her knees buckled as the blackness threatened to overwhelm her again.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, holding out his other arm to stop her from falling.

“The abbey,” she whispered desperately, feeling the multiple wills crushing against hers. They weighed her down like stones.

The kishion gripped her forearm and circled his other arm around her back, then helped her move toward the edge of the wall, toward the thick mass of oak trees and their clawing branches. She felt her left shoulder burn with heat, but somehow, the Myriad Ones could not sink inside her, and she felt them rage in frustration.

The vigil!
she realized thankfully. She had been holding vigil for two days, and though she lacked the protection of the abbey, the Medium was still shielding her. As she stumbled forward, she felt the shrieks of the Myriad Ones against her mind, their howls of fury and impotence. Again her thoughts wavered, her vision blackening as if a swarm of dark leaves were spinning in front of her eyes.

“A little farther,” the kishion said, his teeth gritted. Could he feel the madness fluttering around them as well? She hunched over, weak, and pressed against him to keep herself upright. Her knees shook with the pressure, and each step became more arduous. It was worse than climbing mountains.

The wall was just ahead. She could sense a change in the Myriad Ones. The sheriff and his men were now dead, and there were no emotions left to suck on. They crowded her again, vengeful and filled with hatred, their thoughts hissing like steam. Maia stumbled, racked with dread and despair. She felt them take control of her arms and legs, turning them into lead.

“Hurry!” she pleaded to the kishion, her mouth starting to lose itself.

Sensing her panic, the kishion hoisted her in his arms and lunged the final steps into the protection of the abbey grounds. It was like coming up for air after being submerged. The blackness of the Myriad Ones was instantly dispelled. They keened with rage at her, furious that their victim had been snatched from their grasp. The walls of the abbey shook with the tremors of their anger, their revenge, their twisted desires. Maia glanced back, feeling unseen sentinels standing there, the ghosts of the dead protecting the hallowed grounds. She breathed deep, almost weeping with relief. The feeling of peace that flooded her heart was such a comfort. She rested her head against the kishion’s chest, panting.

“Thank you,” she whispered brokenly. “Thank you!”

The kishion carried her, held tight in his arms, and moved through the thick groves of oak trees, ducking occasionally to stay away from the reaching branches. His breath was heavy in her ear, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he labored to carry her through the trees. The fog shrouded the way, but she knew the grounds intimately now. She thought they were nearer to the kitchen than the manor when the veil of trees parted and they reached an expanse of lawn.

“Set me down, I can walk now,” she said, her ebbed strength returning. The weariness threatened to make her doze.

He obeyed and shifted her in his arms, setting her down just past the small twigs and scrub of the grove. The grass was cool and wet against her shoes.

She reached out to touch his arm. “Why are you here?” she asked suddenly.

There was a little more light, diffused from various sources on the grounds. His face was still partially smothered in shadow, but she saw his amused smile. “I have my business, Maia,” he said cryptically. “Do not ask what it is. I heard them plotting to abduct you tonight and waited for the sheriff to drag you out. I followed them into the mist. They did not heed my warning.”

Her heart filled with wariness and fear. “Did you follow me from Dahomey?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I had to heal from my injury.” His hand went down to his waist, pressing his healed wound, and he winced, his lips curling with pain. “The injury still afflicts me. But you saved me, Maia. As I have saved you. We are bound, you and I.” His voice dropped lower. “Do not trust your father. He means you harm.”

Maia’s voice quavered. “I know.”

“Then
fight
him,” the kishion said, his voice rising with anger.

Maia shook her head wearily. “I cannot. He is my father.”

He chuckled coldly. “He hired me to kill you. I told you that.”

“Even so, I will not harm him. I wish you had not killed the sheriff’s men.”

He snorted. “Of course you do.” He looked at her with contempt. “Even if the guilty suffer, you grieve.” He shook his head. “The king is coming to murder you all tomorrow. Know that.”

Maia scrutinized the scarred man. “Did he say this to you?”

He shook his head slowly and cocked his ear. “They are hunting for you. I must go. Can I persuade you to come with me?”

Maia shook her head violently. “I must remain. I am not safe outside these walls.”

“You are not safe here either,” he said scornfully. “Farewell, Maia. For
now
.” He gave her a look full of meaning. He took her hand, just as he had in the past, and gave it a light squeeze before walking off into the mist.

He had not gone far when Maia heard growling and snarling and padded paws crashing through the copse of oak. She recognized the growl as Argus’s.

“Argus!” she called. “Argus, come to me!”

There was a savage snarl, the snapping of teeth, and then a yelp of sudden pain.

“Argus! No! Do not hurt him!” She stumbled after the kishion in the fog, her heart racing with panic. The boarhound lay crumpled on the wet grass, whining in pain. The kishion was backing away from it, knife dripping once more.

“No!” Maia screamed, rushing up to the faithful hound. She knelt in the brush, the sticks jabbing her knees and legs, and cradled Argus in her arms as he breathed in spasms and pants. His fur was wet with blood. She hugged him close, tears flooding from her eyes.

“No! Argus, no! Please! Please—you cannot die! Please!”

The kishion vanished into the mist as Maia squeezed Argus tight, burying her face in the ruff of fur. She felt the hound stiffen and stop panting. Tears squeezed from her eyes as the blood dripped from her fingers.

“No,” she sobbed, breaking down as she cradled the dead hound in her arms. Her shoulders shook and throbbed.

“Argus!” It was Jon Tayt’s voice. He whistled for the dog. In the next horrible moment he was there, crouching next to her. “Maia!” he gasped, his voice choking when he saw her cradling the hound.

“Did you find her?” It was Collier’s voice. He rushed up next as Maia wept with despair, clutching the boarhound as her heart split into pieces.

It was midnight, the darkest part of the day, and Maia sat next to Collier at the small window seat in the Aldermaston’s study. Her gown was still stained with Argus’s blood, but she had managed to clean her hands and her face, though her eyes were still red from crying. The fire Leering in the hearth glowed orange, filling the small room with supple flames. Collier pressed her against him, stroking her hair as she stared into the light. Suzenne and Dodd were also there, faces drawn in silent concern and companionship, huddled together and sitting side by side, their hands clasped tightly.

The Aldermaston’s steward entered, his gray hair wild from the journey. “The Aldermaston is coming with your grandmother,” he informed them. “What a chorus of the bizarre tonight.” He walked over to Jon Tayt, who was pacing against the wall, his eyes bloodshot from suppressed grief. He laid a hand on the hunter’s shoulder. “I am sorry,” he offered in vain.

Jon Tayt shook his head. “By Cheshu, he was only a hound.” His face wilted with pain. “But what a hound.”

Tomas nodded wisely. “Strangely—Argus’s death coincided with some other things.”

Maia lifted her head, feeling wooden with fatigue. “What has happened, Tomas?”

“I will let your grandmother tell you.” He went back to the door and held it open for the Aldermaston and his wife, Joanna, to enter, followed by Sabine. Then he shut it and took his seat near the Aldermaston’s desk.

A sudden thought struck Maia. “Maeg,” she said, parting slightly from Collier. “She must be told about her father’s death.”

The Aldermaston’s wife nodded. “I told her, Maia. I was just with her a few moments ago. She was not asleep. She was holding vigil for you tonight.”

Maia started, her eyes surprised.

“All the Ciphers were awake,” she said. “We were all holding vigil for you tonight.”

Maia felt the threat of tears again, even though she had thought there were none left. She looked at Suzenne, who nodded and smiled at her.

“What has happened?” Maia repeated, staring at her grandmother. She looked weary and haggard, but her eyes were full of emotion.

“It is time,” Sabine said hoarsely.

Maia stared at her.

The Aldermaston stepped forward, coming to Maia, and took her hands in his. His eyes penetrated her, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “Something has happened, Marciana. The abbey is . . . awakening. There are Leerings within that have never responded before. They are all glowing, summoning, calling for you.”

Maia’s eyes widened as she glanced at Collier and then back at the Aldermaston.

Sabine came up and gripped her arm. “Some test was passed. Some event triggered this. I cannot make sense of it. Was it the blood of the faithful hound spilled for you? Was it you defying the Myriad Ones and not being overtaken by them? Maybe it was all the vigils being kept.
Something
happened tonight. I cannot say what it was. But all the Leerings in the abbey are glowing . . . even the hearth fires in the kitchen. The laundry. Every single one is showing its power. The abbey is
singing
for you, Maia.” She caught her breath, shaking her head. “The dead have gathered around.” Her voice was so thick she could hardly speak. “They are thronging the abbey. They are whispering. They are awaiting something. You must come, Maia.” She stroked her granddaughter’s arm. “Let us change your gown and put on the veil. It is time. The abbey will not forbid you now.”

Maia felt a spasm of doubt . . . just a tiny seed of one, like the fluff from a dandelion. She easily crushed it under her resolve.

She turned to Collier. “Come with me,” she begged him.

His look changed from surprise to horror in an instant. He shook his head. “I cannot,” he said in a choking voice. “With all my heart I wish I could. I dare not.” He stood, his cheeks flushed with emotion. “I did feel the Medium tonight,” he whispered. “I cannot deny it. When Carew was leading me away . . . while we were walking, I heard a voice in my head. I heard the Medium whisper to me what Carew was going to say next. And then he did. Every word he said as we walked, I was told in advance. And then it warned me that Crabwell was going to trick me, that they were coming after you.” He nearly choked, his voice thick with tears. “I knew it was the Medium.” His hand rested on Maia’s back. “You must go. I am not ready yet.” He stared into her eyes. “But I will be. Someday. I promise you.”