The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

“Are you with me, Aldermaston?” she whispered.

The faint pressure came on her head again. Instead of looking backwards again, she closed her eyes and opened her mind to her thoughts. The Gift of Seering opened up to her again and she saw the Aldermaston, in her mind. He was crossing the Cider Orchard painfully, each step an agony to him. The branches lashed at him, but he walked firmly ahead, his arm cradling something that glinted gold. Then he was moving through the forbidden part of the grounds, his expression writhing in pain. She watched as he made it to the floating stone beyond Maderos’ lair. He clambered down upon the rock, almost losing his balance and plunging to his death. He knelt, exhausted, on the stone, his body trembling with the exertion. He bowed his head and then the floating rock began to move, easing downwards to the base of the hill that was still submerged beneath the waters of the lake. With a mighty heave, he shoved a tome of aurichalcum off the boulder and watched it splash in the waters. It sank instantly, coming to rest amidst the stone ossuaries that she used to play in as a child.

The vision faded.

Lia opened her eyes. “Thank you, Aldermaston. Thank you for showing me where your tome lies.”





*





She buried the Aldermaston’s bones in an ossuary near Maderos’ lair. The tome was where she had seen and had not been difficult to see hidden within the crevices. As she knelt before the sealed box, she raised her arm in the maston sign.

Her voice was thick with emotion, but grew stronger as she spoke. “By Idumea’s hand, I do not know all the words. I am a young maston still. But I kneel and through the Medium dedicate this ground as the final resting place of Gideon Penman, the Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey. By the Medium I invoke this, that when the time of his reviving has come, at some future dawn, he may be restored, every whit. May all who love truth always remember this final spot that others may remember what he did for us. That we may remember him through our words. Make it thus so.”

As she crossed the Cider Orchard to return to the kitchen, she heard the snort and whicker of a horse. The trees were skeletal, but there were enough to shield the source of the sound. She stopped, listening carefully and trying to discern the location of the sound. It was coming from ahead, some distance ahead. She could hear the distant mumble of a voice and her heart began to hammer in her chest with longing. Carefully, she set down the Aldermaston’s tome and began to stalk forward, weaving through the trees carefully but quickly. Her blood throbbed in her ears. It was approaching noontide, but the day was overcast, veiling the sun.

Colvin?

She emerged form the grove and approached the oaks shielding the kitchen. The sound grew louder, an impatient grunt from an animal followed by a soothing whisper. A man’s voice. Lia’s heart beat wildly.

She had no weapons, but she did not feel they would be appropriate for her now, as an Aldermaston. She had the Medium to warn and guide and protect her. But still, she craved a blade dangling from her side.

The sound came from the kitchen, the clang of a pan falling. There was a muttered oath and then the shuffling sound of boots. Only one person and one horse. She had not heard anything to make her think otherwise.

Lia peered around the side of the kitchen and saw the brown mare, lathered with foam and sniffing and nibbling at the brush and plants outside the kitchen. The beast was saddled and there was a scabbard dangling from the horn, but it was empty. The horse raised its head when it saw her and nickered softly.

“What is it?” murmured a man’s voice as he emerged from the kitchen holding a maston sword.

She saw the hilt first, the gleaming hilt with the symbol she had recognized as a child. The tunic was of a knight of Winterrowd. Disappointment crushed her as she saw his face, the curly dark hair and slim sallow cheeks. She had never seen him before in her life. Or if she had, she did not recognize him. He was not as tall as Colvin. He was a stranger.

The sword was leveled at her immediately. “Who are you?” he demanded hotly, his face full of suspicion.

“I am the Aldermaston of Muirwood,” Lia replied. “Please, put away your weapon.”

“You are the Aldermaston?” he said, his face scrunching with irritation. “Is that a jest?” He waved his free arm towards the rubble of the Abbey.

“I am the Aldermaston still,” Lia replied. “You are a knight of Winterrowd. I recognize your clothing, but I do not know your name. Were you looking for food?”