“It is not the distance that is the problem,” Lia said. “It is the obstacles. We are two leagues away, if that. We could easily walk there before dawn if we could cross the river. But it looks like they put torches along the shore to guide the boats in the dark. The river is very wide. You remember crossing it, Colvin? Even with a horse, the current was strong. It is cold and we are tired.”
“But we must cross it,” Colvin said. “The Abbey is on the other side…eventually.”
“Yes, but the Belgeneck floods often and forms a lake at the bend. Those waters are to the north of Muirwood. With all the rain this season, the lake will still be there. We could skirt around the lake on the other side. Two other rivers empty into it, but they are smaller. One has a stone bridge. It is called the Doe Bridge because deer often use it to cross the river. The other river…well, we will be getting wet for that one. But it is not as deep as the Belge and maybe the orb can help us find a shallow ford.”
They walked in silence then, their breath coming out in little plumes of mist from the cold. Colvin broke the silence. “Can we reach the Abbey before dawn?”
“We must,” Lia said, her thoughts as dark as the woods.
*
The hunter is patient. The prey is careless. Martin’s words teased her and tortured her. She was so tired. Her legs ached. Her boots were soaked through. Ellowyn’s teeth chattered with cold and she stumbled more and more, but she did not complain. She clutched the cloak with one fist and Colvin’s arm with the other, willing herself to put each foot ahead.
Lia glanced behind and saw the flicker of many torches drawing nearer. They were gaining ground. She had not bothered hiding their trail. There was only one way they could go and deceiving the pursuers would do little to help. If Lia led them away from the river, what then? It would only put their enemies ahead of them instead of behind. No, she would need to hold back and fight soon and she was not looking forward to it. There were six torches. That meant twelve to eighteen men. She sighed. The ones carrying the torches would be her targets. If she shot them down, one at a time, it would cause confusion. By shooting them, no one would want to hold the torches then. It would cause squabbling. If they abandoned the torches, so much the better.
Was that the right way to think? Was she missing something else? Her mind was weary. She had not slept in two days. Her stomach ached with hunger, but they ate as they walked. There was enough water to last, but still she was thirsty.
She remembered Jon Hunter and how he had tried to help them against Almaguer. This was different – almost impossible. There was an army in the Bearden Muir led by Dieyre and the Queen Dowager. What would happen when they reached Muirwood? Would she be strong enough to summon the Abbey defenses? She was so tired. Heartsick. Would she be strong enough to summon the Leerings? She knew the Abbey could defend itself. Had not Maderos once said that an Aldermaston had dropped a mountain on an invading force and left it there? What would it take to summon the defenses? Would she be strong enough to counter the will of Pareigis?
A memory came to her suddenly, unbidden, of the time she had faced the kishion. She was helpless against his skill. He had twisted aside all of her attempts to injure him. It was only after Astrid lay dead that the Medium had commanded her to redeem Muirwood. Blood had been spilled before the power of the Medium was there to save her. Blood spilled. Astrid’s blood.
The thought brushed against her mind.
Blood would redeem the Abbey. That was what was needed. Not her skill in the Medium. Not her devotion to the Aldermaston. It was her blood. Or the Aldermaston’s. A price to be paid for the power to save them all.
Lia cringed from the weight of the thought.
Was it true? Was it her tiredness speaking or was it the Medium? How could she be sure? Ever since her experience in the Bearden Muir with Colvin when she learned about the Medium, it had whispered to her and given her insights and thoughts. It helped her remember the things she learned. The Medium was a close friend to her. Would a friend send her to die?
She swallowed, feeling her heart burn inside of her. Was this what the Medium was asking of her? The thought struck her like lightning. She felt it through her bones. In her mind, the image of Colvin and Ellowyn on a boat crossing a stormy sea. Foam crashed against the hull. She could smell the salt in the air. But just as assuredly as she could see them, she knew that she was not with them. Colvin steadying Ellowyn as the vessel pitched and lunged in the sea. She would not be journeying to Dochte Abbey with them.
The Gift of Seering struck her like a mountain, the irrespressible weight of the Medium confirming her thought. She would not be going to Dahomey with them.
Pain. The thought brought a wrenching pain inside her heart. Being separated from Colvin would be agony. In her mind’s eye, she remembered as the two of them had stacked stones on Jon Hunter’s body. Instead of that, she saw Colvin and Ellowyn standing there, clutching stones, burying her.