“Kill me!!” Dieyre roared, craning his neck. “You are a man! I spoiled your sister! I ruined her! Do not show me mercy. Do not you dare show me mercy, Forshee! You defeated me. Now end it! End my life!”
The kystrel dangled right in front of her. One of her hands was transfixed by a crossbow bolt. She could not even move the fingers. If she let go of Scarseth’s wrist, she could snatch it.
Colvin’s voice was full of anger and loathing. “I will not, Dieyre. I can see your thoughts. You ordered that she be killed if you met your death. I will not be her executioner and yours.”
Lia’s strength failed.
She released Scarseth’s arm and grabbed the snail-shaped medallion which was the source of his power over the Leerings. The edges were hot in her palm as the dagger plunged into her ribs. She closed her eyes, summoning the Medium’s power to help her in her final moments of life. All the flames from all of the burning Leerings, she summoned into her hand. She could feel the light and heat from her fist blazing. She made it hotter and hotter, a forge fire of intensity. The kystrel melted in her hand and the binding on Scarseth was snapped.
“Then you will die for me,” said the Earl of Dieyre. “A thousand marks to the one who takes off his head!” he shouted at his soldiers.
She could not move. It was over for her as the blood welled up from the dagger wound. Lia felt arms draw underneath her and lift her. Opening her eyes, she saw Scarseth’s face near hers as he carried her towards the Leering, his face a mixture of guilt and desperation. He staggered, almost dropping her, and then placed her gently next to the Leering. He took her hand to touch the cooling stone. He was helping her save the Abbey.
“Please!” he whispered. “Save us…”
The Gift of Seering opened up her true eyes and she saw it all at once. Twenty knights rushing at Colvin, weapons bare. He stood in the midst of a storm, surrounded by blinding golden light. Ellowyn hiding in an ossuary as soldiers searched the rubble for her. The masses of soldiers were marching towards the Abbey, but had halted, confused since fires were no longer burning. What did that mean? She could feel their confusion. Was it safe to go further? Where was their master?
Lia?
It was the Aldermaston’s thoughts. The Aldermaston, who stood alone at the Abbey gates in the hurricane of power that Pareigis unleashed on him. Her guards battered on the gates, which were twisting and bending and shaking, nearly down. That was the moment. That was the instant when things began to tip. The Leering thrummed with power.
Lia, I am the one meant to die! It is my blood! Please! Not you!
But she was already fading, already slipping past the mortal coils that bound her true self to the body of her second life. The Aldermaston could sense her death and it overwhelmed him with grief. Pareigis was exultant as the gates tottered down, clanging to the paving stones. The Aldermaston crumpled, his heart giving way. Then his thoughts were shielded from hers as he succumbed to the blackness.
Lia felt the tug, the pull of Muirwood Abbey. She drifted in the wind towards it, summoned by it. The Abbey stood on the gently sloping hill and it seemed as if it were already afire. But not with crackling orange flames – it burned with light brighter than the noonday sun. She could feel the Abbey defenses building, seething, throbbing. The Leerings that were once blazing turned white. As her shadow-self rose towards the ancient structure, she saw it happen. The twin rivers that enclosed the highland on two sides leapt from their banks. A flood of water thundered into the valley floor. The Abbey was encircled by the rivers completely. The soldiers halting in the fields below raised a scream of fright at the waters converging around them, flooding the entire valley floor.
The weight of Pareigis’ will tried to stopper the floods, to send them back, but it was like shoving the moon. As Lia drifted near to the Abbey, towards the Apse Veil, she watched in delight as maston after maston wearing the collar and spurs of Winterrowd emerged from inside. There was Garen Demont in front, rushing with his men towards the gates, swords drawn. Lia felt a rush of joy. Pareigis and her knights were outnumbered completely. The Apse Veil drew her inexorably towards the Abbey. She was returning to Idumea. Instead of sorrow, she felt warmth and peace. There was no pain, no suffering now. Only peace.