The Ciphers of Muirwood (29 page)

A spasm of hope filled Maia’s chest, and she released the Aldermaston’s hands so she could hug Collier. She buried her face in his chest, and he embraced her just as fiercely in return. They clung to each other, lost in a moment of time that was fleeting yet seemed to last an eternity. She felt him press his mouth against her hair as he squeezed her hard, crushing her to him. His arms were trembling, and her heart burned with searing heat. She could hear the whispers now, growing louder, calling for her to come.

Like Sabine, she also did not know what it was that had loosened the restraints on the abbey. Perhaps it was Collier’s fledgling faith? She was no longer tired, even though she had not slept. Her muscles and joints filled with resolve and courage. She would face the maston test. She would summon all her will, and she would submit to the Medium, giving whatever was required of her.

When Maia finally pulled away from her husband’s embrace, she saw tears in Collier’s eyes. He seemed embarrassed by them and suddenly looked much younger to her. She took his hand in hers, holding it, feeling its warmth, determined to take part of him with her into the abbey.

“Wait for me,” she whispered, clinging to his hand and pressing his fingers with her thumb.

“I promise,” he told her. How odd that now, of all times, she wanted to kiss his cheek . . . or his mouth. She could feel the tension between them, the desire to seal the rush of feelings with a kiss. The finality of the curse tormented her: to never kiss him, or their children. She would always suffer for the mistake she had made, even though it had been made out of ignorance.

It was not fair, but she realized that most creatures suffered for mistakes not their own. Argus had suffered from his own instincts. He had been seeking Maia and trying to save her. He could not stop himself from growling and attacking a threat. She did not believe the kishion had maliciously killed the hound. It was his own instinct for self-preservation that had moved his dagger. Just as it was her own instinct to try and save people, even when others thought she was foolish.

Almost imperceptibly, Collier dipped his mouth toward hers. She shook her head, backing away, her heart nearly bursting again with pain.

“No,” she mouthed to him, then bit her lip.

His eyes mirrored her suffering, but he nodded obediently and stepped away.

As she let go of his hand, she turned and let her grandmother lead her out of the room to prepare her once again for the maston rites.

There are three things that a maston must do. By these three can one learn to govern oneself and ultimately the Medium. Speak the truth. Do not yield to anger. Give much when you are asked for little. By these three steps will one walk the path leading back to Idumea.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Victus

E
ven though the night was dark and the fog was oppressive and thick, the abbey shone with light. Maia stared at it through the gossamer veil she wore, amazed by the brightness. In the distance a cock crowed, the creature probably startled by the deceptive glare emanating from Muirwood.

The Aldermaston’s steward chuckled and patted her arm. “Poor rooster is going to be surprised when the sun rises later,” he said. She could see his dimples flashing. He was much taller than her, and it felt comforting to have him at her side as they approached the doors.

This time she felt only a warm welcome as she advanced.

“Have you ever seen the abbey glow like this?” Maia inquired.

“Not in the twenty years I have lived here,” he replied simply. “I do not know what to make of it. This is as far as I bring you. Good luck, Maia. I will continue holding vigil for you. I think everyone is doing the same.”

Maia grasped his big hand and squeezed it, then approached the abbey through the fog-kissed grass. She felt peaceful, solemn, and nervous about the duty before her. Strangely, she did not feel any fear. After weeping so heavily for Argus’s death, her emotions had calmed, and she could almost swear she felt him padding alongside her in the stillness—a smokeshape in the mist.

As Maia walked, she sensed beings gliding in the stillness all around her. Through the roiling mists, she discerned the peaceful shapes of men and women, fading in and out of view. The dead were congregating at the abbey. She could feel their thoughts brushing against hers. This was the moment they had waited a century for. The opening of the Apse Veil would finally bring freedom. Her heart was struck with the uniqueness of the moment, the whisper of breath before speech.

The Leerings guarding the abbey no longer repelled her. The eyes flared brilliant white as she advanced, greeting her with feelings of welcome, warmth, and determination. Maia tugged on the handle of the pewter door, and it swung smoothly open.

Her heart throbbed with excitement and joy. All her life she had desired to enter an abbey and make her oaths, inspired by her mother’s example. She did not fear the oaths. She had a vague understanding of the process—that she would receive a Gift of knowledge first and then be taken to the Rood Screen, where she would take the oaths and receive her chaen. That was where the Apse Veil waited for her.

As Maia entered, she sensed the power of the Leerings inside the abbey flare even brighter. Outside the abbey had been unnaturally bright, given it was after midnight and well before dawn. Inside the abbey, it might as well have been a midsummer day. Everywhere there were vases and pots full of living plants, flowers, and trees. She sensed the Leerings carved into them, each one unique and special, and she was aware of the combination of Leerings pervading the abbey. It was as if dozens of lutes, harps, flutes, and instruments were playing simultaneously—she understood them all at once, in unison, but could also hear the hymn they were playing.

Walking toward her down the hall, she saw the Aldermaston and his wife, Maia’s grandmother, Sabine, and . . . there was another woman there as well. Maia squinted and blinked, and the third woman vanished. She blinked a second time, and there she was again, gliding toward her, smiling so brightly it was like looking at the sun. Joy and recognition bloomed inside her heart. Maia had wanted to see her for years, had dreamed of meeting her at Muirwood, and had been crushed by the knowledge of her death.

Mother!

Maia’s heart leaped with intense gratitude, and she muffled a sob that nearly ruined her composure. Her mother was there at the abbey with them. She could see that others had gathered behind the group, including a man who was tall, somber, and bearded, appearing as old as the world itself. She could feel his thoughts brush against hers, heavy with purpose, and she realized he was a previous Aldermaston of Muirwood, Gideon Penman—the man her husband was named after. Maia covered her mouth, her eyes brimming. They had all come to welcome her, and she felt their combined hope and joy flood through her, driving away every feeling of unworthiness, self-loathing, and gloom. She was honored to be in their presence, yet she could tell that they also felt honored to be in hers.

The Aldermaston’s wife separated from her husband and approached her, taking her hands. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she seemed oblivious to the figures Maia could see so clearly. Perhaps the others could only feel their presence?

“Remove your shoes, Maia. This place is holy.”

Maia nodded and quickly pulled off her damp slippers. The humans and specters approached her, all smiling with gentleness and welcome. She had never felt such peace in all her life. The Leerings throughout the abbey thrummed with the power of the Medium. She could feel it penetrating into her bones.

“Do you have any Gifts?” her grandmother asked her, beginning the ritual.

Maia swallowed. “I have,” she answered and felt the Medium flood her mind. “I have the Gift of languages. And music. I have the Gift of ruling and deep faith. I hope I am wise.”

Sabine smiled at her. “You also have the Gift of Meekness, which is very rare and one you cannot utter yourself. You have others as well, Maia. If you pass the maston test, you will receive more. The Medium has a work for you to do. I think we can all feel that.”

Maia shuddered, feeling her knees tremble.

The Aldermaston spoke next. “Do you seek the rites of the mastons?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Maia answered, nodding firmly.

“Then first you will receive a Gift of knowledge. Come with us to the chamber below.”

Maia walked with them, giddy with excitement and completely at peace. She sensed every Leering they passed and recognized its purpose, whether it was to warm the air with fire or provide light. She did not summon their power. The Leerings seemed to whisper to her as she passed, divulging their secrets. They were all glowing, radiating a forceful feeling of goodness and power. The Aldermaston led her down a series of stone steps, into a chamber that was full of polished wooden benches and had a stone altar at the head.

Sabine sat next to her on one of the benches and held her hands. The Aldermaston’s wife sat on the other side of her as the Aldermaston began to explain the history of the abbeys and humanity’s exile from Idumea. Maia had been raised by mastons, so she knew much of what they told her. She knew that Idumea was not a person but a world. She understood most of the principles the Aldermaston taught her about the second life, and how, in order to tame the Medium, she needed to first let herself be tamed
by
it. That was a concept that most struggled with, and she could see why. She knew people assumed that surrendering their will to something else was a lessening of themselves, but in Muirwood she had realized it was quite the opposite. The more she gave, the stronger she became. While wearing the kystrel, she had constantly been haunted by fears and self-doubt. A secret shame had clung to her, a sense of concealment and evasiveness. She felt only pride when she thought of wearing a chaen. Being in Muirwood, she had finally, for the first time in her life, felt free to breathe and be herself. Here, she felt accepted for who she was. Her worth was intrinsic, and she learned it had to do with her potential to become one of the Essaios, the race of immortal beings who lived in Idumea. Even a lavender like Celia would have the same opportunity as she, a princess of the realm. For in Idumea, there were no ranks or stations.

The Aldermaston also spoke of the hetaera, and Maia felt part of herself shrivel in shame as he explained the history of the order and their devotion to Ereshkigal. She knew much of it already from what she had learned in Chancellor Walraven’s tome, but she understood it much more fully now. And she understood also why Ereshkigal hated her Family so much. It was Maia’s ancestor Lia who had cursed the hetaera Leering, which had been a crippling blow to the order.

The hetaera of the past had chosen their fate, had chosen the brand willingly. Maia had not . . . and she now realized anew how wearing the kystrel had helped lead her down that dark path. The whispers she had assumed were from the Medium were not, but were whispers from the Myriad Ones. She shrank with growing horror when she realized the true impact of her journey to the lost abbey. It made sense to her now in ways she could not have imagined before.

Even the dirge of the Dochte Mandar reeked of the hetaera’s taint. She remembered the words she had memorized, words from an ancient tongue.
Och monde elles brir
.
Och cor shan arbir. Och aether undes pune. Dekem millia orior sidune.

A world of noise . . . the woods sharing a single heart . . . the anvil of heaven below . . . a million stars yet to be born
.

It was a mantra, a vow, a secret pact to destroy the maston order. A promise to fill the world with noise and chaos. She had never understood that before. A shared purpose and goal of revenge. The anvil of Idumea . . . a punishment as the Myriad Ones were cast out. A million stars yet to be born . . . the Unborn. Maia saw it now, saw that she had used the very words that would summon Ereshkigal to her. The woman in the mist, whom she had believed to be a spirit of the dead, had been the Queen of the Unborn herself. Her trickery and flattery at the lost abbey had completely fooled Maia. And when she had been asked to offer a Gift, she had sworn to give her life.

Maia shuddered at the gall of the truth. The hetaera were deceivers, and she had been deceived. She had been taught to surrender her will to the Medium. But not in an abbey that had fallen. Instead, she had unwittingly given her body for Ereshkigal to inhabit, and having seized it, Ereshkigal had branded her shoulder with the mark. They were bound together, Maia realized. It frightened her to consider what that might mean. As the sheriff’s men dragged her from the abbey grounds, she had felt the Myriad Ones swarm to claim her. She had not sensed Ereshkigal there. The Myriad Ones were satisfied inhabiting the flesh of swine or wolves, she knew. But they preferred to take over mortals.

“There is a new threat in the kingdoms,” the Aldermaston continued. “When our ancestors took the maston rites, they were instructed about the hetaera as you have learned tonight. When the first abbey was constructed in Assinica, the last Aldermaston had the Gift of Seering, and she added to the rite to help us face the new challenges of the day. She warned of the coming of the Victus.”

Maia flinched when the name was said, feeling her stomach tighten like a coil. She leaned forward, eager to learn more about her enemies.

The Aldermaston’s face was grave and solemn. “Like the hetaera, they seek to destroy the maston order. The Victus are the religious and political leaders of Naess. They rule through the principle of enmity, which means hatred and anger. Their beliefs are in direct opposition to ours; whereas mastons seek to calm anger and prevent violence, the Victus relish murder, and they renewed the kishion order to fulfill their ends. Such acts are abhorrent to the Medium, and we are commanded to purge the kishion from the realm. When a society or civilization embraces the Victus, corruption is soon to follow, as well as slavery. The Victus allowed the mastons to return and reclaim their lost kingdoms. Through subtlety and deception, they have glutted themselves on our labors and our industry. They have infiltrated all levels of our society, and some Victus have even attempted to pass the maston tests themselves to learn our signs and oaths. You must safeguard the knowledge you have learned tonight. Now is the time for you to enter the Rood Screen and make your oaths.” He paused, his voice heavy with portent. “So much rests on your shoulders, Maia. We will all continue to hold vigil for you. We do not know what will happen when the Apse Veil is restored . . . what we do know is that if it is
not
restored, our brothers and sisters in Assinica will be murdered by the Victus when the armada arrives.” He motioned to his wife and her grandmother. “We all sense that the armada has already reached those distant shores.” He gestured to her. “Rise.”

Maia did and followed them back up the steps and crossed the main hall of the abbey to a secluded section of the floor, where the Rood Screen blocked the way. The workmanship of the wood was impressive and intricately detailed. It was a barrier leading into the chamber where Maia would take her oaths. She swallowed, feeling the momentous nature of the night weigh heavily on her shoulders. She did not fear the maston oaths. Her studies of the tomes had prepared her for this part of the rites. It was the Apse Veil that worried her, yet she knew the Medium discerned her thoughts. She could not doubt. She had to believe in herself. She had to believe that Lia had seen her day, to trust that her experiences as a child and young woman had prepared her for this moment. Sighing, she squeezed and released her grandmother’s hand and then entered the Rood Screen.