Whitsunday, he had whispered into her ear. A broken promise to a wretched.
Ahead, through the screen of dead trees, she could see smoke rising from the boulder as if the fires from a year ago were still smoldering. The feeling was wrong. She held up her hand to Martin, alerting him that something was amiss, and he quietly clasped the hilt of his gladius and tethered the mule with one hand. All of the trees within a dozen paces of the Leering had been charred to ash, so only the budding greenery gave color to the place. The Leering, with the carved side facing east towards the sun, was no longer shaggy with moss.
A smell hovered in the air – mixed with the aroma of charred oaks. The scent of man. Lia shuddered. All around her, she could feel them. The snuffling shadows that loped like wolves and stared at her – but could not be seen with the eye. The Myriad Ones were thick around her.
Martin’s voice was flat and wary. “This grove is wicked now.”
Lia stuffed the orb back into the pouch and withdrew her bow and nocked an arrow which she kept in place with her finger, as Martin had taught her so well. The air was full of sounds, of buzzing gnats and cawing ravens and the twitter of insects. There were no sounds from other people, but holding absolutely still, she could almost feel the muzzles of the Myriad Ones sniffing about her legs. Cautiously, patiently, she waited – watching the woods for the sign of movement, the sound of intruders. The feeling in the air clung like smoke to her skin. Biting her lip, she focused on the source of the feelings and realized, to her shock, that they were emanating from the Leering itself.
One step closer. Two steps. She ducked around a tree, keeping low to the ground. A single quail flew overhead that might have made a tasty meal, but even the thought of food brought revulsion. Fear filled the blackened grove to the brim. Sickness and disease stalked the woods. As she came closer, even the plant-life began to alter. The charred trunks of the oaks were wreathed in vines with bronzed leaves of a shape Lia had not seen before. The leaves were moist and colorful, which was strange. She touched one gently and the oil stuck to her fingers.
The mule brayed and Martin hushed it with an apple, his muscles taut as he continued to listen to the surroundings.
Lia grimaced, feeling the oily wetness on her fingertips. “I have not seen this plant before,” she warned. Bringing her pack around, she withdrew her gloves and an empty pouch. With her short knife, she cut off a small segment of leaves and stuffed them in the pouch.
“Let us depart, Lia. This is no place for the living. The dead linger here.”
“No, something is wrong with the Leering,” Lia said. Carefully, she stepped through the tangled vines that tried to grope at her and entered the clearing surrounding the boulder. The vines grew everywhere and wrapped around the base of the boulder. Martin had never seen the depth of her potential with the Medium. If she could get close enough, she might be able to stop the rock from burning. The Aldermaston would want to know as much as possible since he could not travel beyond the Abbey borders.
She crossed around to the side where her face was and stopped, fearful at what she saw. The Leering was alive, seething with power. The face had once been hers. Now it was unrecognizable as even human. The eye sockets blazed with red-hot heat, but the expression had been charred completely off. The entire face of the rock shimmered with waves of heat. She knew that if she tried to summon water from it, it would only come out as steam.
The entire boulder was pitted with cracks, as if the stone were about to burst from the force of the Medium’s power.
Is this my fault? she asked herself. In her memory, the power of the Medium had abandoned her after the fire had destroyed Almaguer and his men. She remembered it ending and feeling weightless. What was causing the Leering to behave in such a way?
Martin’s voice was worried. “Lia, come away from that stone.”
“I know what I am doing, Martin,” she said, trusting her willpower. The boulder was blackened, charred. Lia closed her eyes and reached out to it tentatively. At the Abbey, she could summon water from the Leering at the laundry. She could mix it with fire to warm it. She did not really understand how it worked, only that they responded to her thoughts, as Colvin had taught her.
She quietly willed it to stop burning so she could touch it.
It refused.
Fear bloomed in her stomach. The Leering knew she was there. It defied her.
Stop, she told it in her mind.
“Lia, come away.” The mule brayed again.
Again, it resisted her. A mewling sound filled her ears. The Myriad Ones crowded against her, drawn to the stone, to its powerful summons. They fed on the fear it exuded. Some hissed at her.