Normally, Lia enjoyed traveling the tunnels beneath the Abbey grounds. Using a lamp for light, she would make sure the secret entrances were still hidden and free from cave-ins or flooding. She had memorized the passageways and knew all the markers from above ground that would locate them. But at that moment, she did not want to do her duty and seek out Siler at the Pilgrim Inn and relay a message from the Aldermaston. Instead, she longed to be with Colvin, poring over a tome she could not read and learning something clever from him.
She reached an intersection of tunnels and paused a moment, choosing the shaft that went to the Pilgrim. A web of tunnels crisscrossed beneath the grounds, but they exited in only four places. One was the Pilgrim Inn. Another, Maderos’ lair. The other two went further in opposite directions and exited the grounds in the woods surrounding the Abbey. The tunnels were cold and damp and she had to stoop to avoid the netting of roots that sometimes grasped at her hair. The air was thick with the smell of burning oil and earth.
She repeated the message again in her mind as she approached the Leering that blocked the way into the Pilgrim’s cellar. She reached out and laid her hand on the stone, bringing to mind the maston word which would open it. Only by speaking it aloud would the Leering door open.
As soon as her hand touched the rock, the Medium seized her violently.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him clearly – vividly – could even smell his onion breath. Scarseth. His fingers caressed the stone Leering, his eyes white-silver. Open the door, his thoughts whispered. You must help me. Open it!
The force of the Medium stunned her. She started to speak the word, then clenched her teeth shut as it started mumbling out of her mouth. Her hand was fastened to the stone, tethered by invisible bands. The weight of the Medium was crushing.
Say the word! I must speak with you – I know you can hear my thoughts, girl! A year without speech. You can help me! You will help me! Say it!
The force of his thoughts crammed into her mind. She feared opening the door. She feared seeing him, smelling him. There was a wild, desperate look in his eyes. He would do anything to get his voice back. He would kill her if that would help. Wave on wave of fear and desperation engulfed her. If she opened the door, it would be over. She would die.
Away from me! she screamed in her mind, shoving back with the force of her will.
The hold snapped and she fell back on the ground, dropping the lamp and guttering the flame. It was black. Pure black. All around her, she felt the Myriad Ones sniffing at her. The eyes of the Leering burned red, tiny slits in the dark. Warm wet oil oozed across her hand, and she jerked her wrist away from it. Rising, she stared at the pinpricks of red and backed away from the Leering. The Medium was gone, but she could sense part of it howling after her. She clenched the haft of the gladius in her hand, trembling like a leaf in a fierce wind. She gulped down air, trying to master her fear, trying to keep tears from blinding her. A dungeon shaft was not a place to confront Scarseth.
Where was Martin? As she hurried away from the Leering, she began to worry about him.
*
She found the Aldermaston coming from the cloister, his head bent in conversation with Prestwich. He looked up at her and then stopped, his look darkening. “What has happened?”
“Scarseth is in the cellar of the Pilgrim. Right now,” she said, with more firmness in her voice than she felt. “He wears the medallion and used it against me. He tried to force me to open the portal.”
For a moment, he looked thunderstruck. He glanced towards the Abbey gates, then back at her.
“Where is Martin?” Prestwich asked, his face florid with anger.
“I do not know,” Lia said. “What should I do? I felt him on the other side of the Leering, but I did not open it. He commanded me…he wanted me to open it.”
The Aldermaston’s face turned as stormy as any expression she had seen on him. “I have felt something…wrong…for days now. My thoughts kept turning to the Pilgrim, which is why I sent you there with a message.” He reached out and gripped her shoulder. “You are my hunter, Lia. Go to the Pilgrim and bring him to me. I must not…I cannot leave the grounds. Not even for a moment. Not even for this. As the sheriff did, he will use the kystrel to make you fear, to subvert your thoughts with his twisted ones. Lia – you are stronger in the Medium than he is.” His eyes burned into hers. “You are stronger than anyone at the Abbey. Believe it, for it is true. Go there and bring him to me. Take the orb with you. It will protect you and warn you. And your weapons. If he will not come…” He paused, his wrinkles furrowing even deeper. “Then bring the kystrel to me. Do not let him roam free with it around his neck. Do what you must, Lia. Quickly now, before he escapes.”
“I will, Aldermaston.”
Prestwich looked hard at her. “Send someone with her,” he said.