The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

The Medium was a roar in her ears. The ash and cinders thickened like hail. It was still growing inside of her. It raged like the fire within the crumbling tower. Lia straightened, her hand still held high in the maston sign. Her blood thundered and boiled. She could only see the blaze of the fire above her. Her hand was pointed towards it. Not to quell it, but to feed it. She sensed the fire’s greedy urge to consume.

Unbidden words filled her mouth. They came in a foreign tongue, the ancient language of the Idumeans, given to her through her Gift of xenoglossia. “Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas.” It was the sacred language to control fire. In her mind, it was nightfall and she saw the Stews burning.





*





“The Aldermaston of Dochte Abbey helps me a great deal. He explains the tomes in such a clear way that I am beginning to understand them. It used to be so frustrating when Colvin explained things, because I could not understand what he was saying, even though I wanted to and he grew angry. The key is to see the inner meanings. The Aldermaston showed me several passages today, for example, that spoke of the First Parents in the Garden of Leerings. It was of a serpent who whispered the truth of what they needed to do to gain the knowledge they required. The serpent is one of the aspects of Idumea. It is clear to me now. A way was provided to whisper the truth. That is a symbol of the Medium. The symbol of the serpent is the greatest manifestation of the Medium’s power. When I explained this knowledge to Colvin, he looked at me differently. It was a look of respect. I have never seen him look at me that way before. It happened often when Lia was nearby and it always made me jealous. Today it made me dizzy.”





- Ellowyn Demont of Dochte Abbey



*





CHAPTER EIGHT:


Flames of Comoros





“He is finally waking,” Reome announced, drawing Lia away from the doorway to the bedside.

Kieran’s eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Lia in confusion. Then his face grimaced with pain, uncontrollable pain. His teeth clenched and he groaned.

“I fell,” he gasped. His neck muscles strained as he lifted his head.

“You are alive,” Lia said soothingly.

His face was tortured with pain. He clenched his jaw, willing to control himself, to keep from blurting out with his suffering. His fingers clenched within the blanket. “My back is broken,” he said darkly.

Reome stifled a moan of horror.

“You will heal,” Lia said, touching his shoulder.

Kieran’s face contorted with pain, but he breathed through his nose and mastered it. “I smell smoke. Are we near Lambeth still?”

“No, it is eventide. The smoke is on the wind. Comoros is burning.”

He looked at her, his face confused. “The whole city? Ablaze? How?”

Lia looked down at her hand. “The fires came from Lambeth. Everything was built so close together. It went from rooftop to rooftop. Then it burned the bridge. It rages still.”

Sweat dripped down Kieran’s temples. He reached with his hand and gingerly touched the back of his head. He looked confused. He spoke to her in Pry-rian, masking his language so Reome would not understand. “I thought…I remembered…hitting my head. Then blackness. Then the Apse Veil.” He wiped his face slowly. “I died.”

“It was not your time to die, Kieran Ven.”

The look he gave her was full of pain and fury. “It was my time to go to Dahomey. I had a duty to perform and you thwarted it.”

She shook her head. “It was the Medium’s will that we journeyed to Lambeth.”

“You say it as if you could command it. As if you did command it to summon me to that burning tower.” He frowned with fury. “I have never done anything so foolish in my life. I deserve to be dead. I was careless. But there was a need drawing me after you. I could do nothing but worry and pace after you left. Almost at once I regretted it. So I left the laundry maid in the shadows, climbed the wall like a thief and ran after you. Someone saw me, of course, and summoned the servants and the guards. I had to knock down four men just to get to the tower door, and then the flames!” He winced with a spasm. “You nearly got us all killed.”

The door opened and Marciana entered, her face smudged with soot, her gown ruined by the smoke. “I heard voices. He has come around?”

Lia had never seen Marciana look so disheveled, but some of her strength had returned. The weeping child from the tower was gone now. The only gown she had was the one Dieyre had left her, and she clutched at the bodice with one hand to guard her modesty. There was fire in her eyes, especially after she learned from Lia that Reome was carrying Dieyre’s child.

“Ah, the reason for our delay,” Kieran said gruffly, still muttering in Pry-rian. “And my downfall.”

“Be civil,” Lia advised back. “She is the sister of an earl who is Demont’s ally.”

Marciana held up her hand. “Please…do not speak in a language I cannot understand. Lia, please, I insist. I owe you my gratitude, Kieran Ven. I wish to express it myself. You saved my life today.”

Kieran looked at her coldly. “Your gratitude is of no recompense to me, my lady. You were not my mission. Permit me a little disappointment that I cannot stand to greet you properly. I do not want or require your sympathies.”