The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

Lia patted Kieran’s hand again. “I will see you again in Muirwood. Thank you. I am…proud of you, Kieran Ven.”


There was a voice, a whisper in her mind so faint she barely heard it. I wish I could serve you in Dahomey, my lady. Daughter of my Prince.

You will serve me again, she answered in her mind, pushing the thought at him. In a far country where there is no Blight.

A small smile crept on his mouth and he nodded at her.

It was the first spark of hope Lia had since learning of the binding sigil. If she could not tell Colvin the truth with her words, perhaps she could tell him with her thoughts.





CHAPTER NINE:


Augustin Abbey





It was the first time Lia had tried to cross the Apse Veil on her own. Summoning her courage, she focused her thoughts on Augustin Abbey, repeating it over and over in her mind. The Medium swirled around her, sending a pricking feeling of dread deep inside her heart. There was something terrifying about the possibility of going so far with one footstep. It was even more terrifying to think that if she focused hard enough, she could step over to Idumea itself where the power of the Medium would probably devour her. Reining in those thoughts, she took several deep breaths and then walked forward through the shimmering curtain. The wrench of time and distance made her dizzy and nauseous. For a moment, she tottered, nearly falling. Her balance returned gradually, so she leaned against the side of the pillar and struggled to calm her heart.

As she opened her eyes, Lia noticed the surroundings had changed. The construction was beautiful but different. This Abbey was bigger than Muirwood, more impressive in its design and craftsmanship. Glancing around as she walked, she noticed the lush furnishings, the ribboned ironwork, the white tassels and gauzy curtains. Walking deliberately, she approached the Rood Screen, separating the chambers and promptly met several cassocked mastons, wearing white with golden trim.

“Where do you hail from?” one of them asked her, his face curious. “How old are you, child? You cannot be eighteen years, if that.”

“I am Lia from Muirwood,” she replied. “This is Augustin?”

“Muirwood.” There was something in the way he said it, the sudden wrinkle in his forehead that alarmed her. “The Aldermaston will wish to speak with you.”

“Have there been others?” she asked, watching their three faces for signs of a reaction. They all looked uneasy, wary, and a little disgusted by her sudden appearance.

“Knight-mastons,” another answered gravely. “Come, child. The Aldermaston will speak with you.”

“I am on urgent business,” Lia answered, approaching them cautiously.

“We will not delay you long,” replied the third.

Lia felt a shiver of apprehension. She followed the three mastons to the exterior door where there were several porters on duty holding lanterns. There was a strange smell in the air, the odor of incense. The floor tiles had been scrubbed and waxed until they shone like glass.

“Bring her to the Aldermaston straightaway,” one of the mastons said. “She is from Muirwood.”

The porter nodded and started down the path away from the huge Abbey. Lia followed, suspicious, but the porter did not deviate from his path and brought her immediately to a large and spacious manor, festooned with flags surrounded with gardens sculpted into the maston symbol of two offset squares. Every shrub had been painstakingly cut and molded, creating intricate shapes and hedgerows. The air carried the strong scent of a fishpond, through she could not see it through the blackness. Even at night, there were gardeners at work, pruning and tending and cleaning the grounds. Some glanced up at her as she passed, but most focused on their duties. The porter escorted her to the doors of the manor house, which were guarded by servants holding long polished black staves. The doors were opened for them as they ascended the steps and Lia entered the voluminous main corridor.

Her boots thudded against the polished tiles and she was struck with the splendour of the place, especially in contrast to the manor house in Muirwood. There were vases full of fresh flowers, mirrors and bowls and sculptures of polished stone. There were rows of small pillars with spherical orbs the size of pumpkins polished to a shine as decoration, for she could discern no other purpose for them. Tall velvet curtains flanked the walls and hung from silver rods. She inhaled through her nose and discovered the faint scent of incense again, permeating the air though she did not see any braziers.

“This way, lass,” said the porter as she nearly stumbled into him when he stopped.

“The grounds are impressive,” Lia said.

“Augustin is the only Abbey in this Hundred,” he replied. “Ahead, if you please.” He knocked on the door firmly.

The door opened and a venerable maston appeared, wearing a silvery cassock with black threading.