The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

Lia shook her head. “You must warn the people. Even if you do not believe it is real, it is your duty to warn them. You are an Aldermaston…”

“I know very well who I am, child.” He gave her a look of condescending smugness. “Gideon will not be the Aldermaston of Muirwood for much longer. When the High Seer’s missive arrives, I will be taking it personally to deliver. I have it on good authority, you understand, that the post will be given to me.” There was something in his eyes, a look of glee that was nearly incoherent. He raised the goblet to his mouth and frowned to learn it was empty. He thrust it angrily into the older maston’s hand with a nod to go fill it again.

He looked at her and his voice was a little slurred as he spoke. “You are sixteen, you say? What position do you serve? I see a weapon – a girl with a weapon. Is that a bow on your shoulder? It is. You are a hunter then?”

Lia nodded, clenching her teeth.

“I should like to see how well you hunt. In the morning, you will bring me a pheasant for my afternoon meal. Or a pig. You are no doubt used to hunting the pig that root amidst the oaks of Muirwood. I hear they are especially delicious. Pig and cider.”

“I have duties to perform in Doviur. I beg you excuse me.”

The Aldermaston leveled his eyes at her. “Even were I to let you go and you managed to return to warn Gideon in time, do you think it would really matter? Muirwood will be mine at last. The most ancient Abbey in the realm will finally become the grandest. When I become its Aldermaston, there will be no more profits spent on Demont and his pitiful army. Then perhaps he will finally be persuaded to end this fruitless contest for power.” He put his hand on her shoulder, his thick heavy hand. “A pheasant. Or a pig. You may hunt on my grounds, but you cannot leave them. I forbid it. You serve me now, child.”

Lia stared in his eyes, saw the intensity there – the deliberateness. How many other knight-mastons had he waylaid?

She reached up and put her thumb on the back of his hand and her fingers around the edge of his palm. With a quick twist and jerk, she yanked his arm around and brought him to his knees with a howl of pain. She bent the wrist backwards, driving him into the tile. She flexed the wrist harder, making him yelp.

“I serve the Aldermaston of Muirwood,” she said tightly. “If any of your people try and stop me, I pity them.”

“I am an Aldermaston!” he quailed, his voice throbbing with pain. “I will invoke the Medium to destroy you!”

There was nothing in the air, not even the faint murmur of the wind.

“By all means try,” she replied, waiting a moment for anything to happen. When nothing did, she shoved him away from her. The older maston was returning with a fresh cup of cider, his eyes popping in shock to see his master handled thus. But he did not approach her.

Lia turned and walked back out the door, flinging it open as she walked. The Aldermaston let out a rush of commands.

“Give me that! You fool! Summon my guards! Do not let her escape. The Earl of Dieyre said he would pay handsomely for her. Get her! Get her!”

Lia ran down the huge corridor, her heart pounding, her stomach thrilling. She reached the doors and yanked them open as the sound of clattering steps echoed throughout the vast maze. The door servants were there, holding the black polished staves. They turned and crossed them, barring her way.

She stomped on one’s foot and wrenched the staff out of his hands and dropped him with a single blow. The other man looked stunned as she whirled the staff around. He deflected it but she switched ends and jabbed the rounded end into his throat. He clutched his neck, dropping his staff with a loud clattering noise and Lia braced herself on the steps. She saw the wretcheds gathering around, the gardeners with spades and pruners with shears, others with brooms and rakes and young girls with polishing rags and tubs of wax. She understood it now – that the Aldermaston of Augustin did not want to see his wretcheds working, so he made them work at night. They labored and toiled so that during the daylight, he would not be bothered with looking at them. Reaching into the pouch at her waist, she withdrew the Cruciger orb and summoned its blinding light. It enveloped her like a blazing sun.

“The Blight is truly coming!” she shouted. “It strikes by Twelfth Night! Flee to Muirwood for safety. Flee this place before it comes!”

In her mind, she willed the orb to work, to guide her to a safe road where she could escape into the woods. That was her domain, her place of strength where her skills would outmatch any of theirs. The light of it was dazzling, so bright it made her wince. The spindles spun and then pointed a clear path towards a giant hedge maze.





CHAPTER TEN:


Doviur Caves