The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

As the orb led her closer to the ship she sought, her mind wandered at what she would say. Though she desired passage to the Abbey, she realized that it may not be possible to land there directly and there might be some foot travel required. Desperately, she wanted to reach Dahomey, to find Colvin and warn him of the dangers they faced. The Medium continued to guide her, but there was a worried twist in her stomach, a feeling that every delay should be avoided.

The orb spindles changed direction, leading down a dock aisle. Berthed at the end of it was a ship that dwarfed those around it. Instead of triangular sails, it was rigged with several square sails, with a hive of masts and rigging. Sailors thronged the deck, some scurrying up and down ropes. The sides were dark and caked with slime and pitch. It was enormous, a huge mass of wood and cloth and rope. A small row of barrels were pushed up the gangplank, probably provisions for the journey. Several discarded ropes were being collected and wrapped. It seemed as if the loading was nearing an end.

The spindles pointed towards the ship unmistakably. Summoning her courage, she concealed the Cruciger orb and advanced. As she drew near, the whistles began and several members of the crew took immediate interest. They were a rowdy sort. She grit her teeth as she approached.

“What seek ye, lass?” one of the sailors crooned. “A kiss ‘ere we disembark?”

“Do not waste your charms,” said another. “She is my girl and came to bid me farewell.”

“In the frigid depths of Sheol,” said the former, shoving the man. The retaliation was swift.

They spoke her language, but with an accent strange to her ears. It reminded her a little of Dieyre’s manner of speech. Both he and Colvin had come from farther north.

“I must speak with the captain,” Lia said firmly, pushing her thoughts at them with her will.

“But does he wish to speak with you?” replied the man she addressed, his expression regarding her with interest. “What is your business?”

She nearly told him, but the Medium whispered to be silent. Instead, she gave him a serious look, shoving the thought at him again.

“Who are you, lass?” said another sailor, one coiling a rope.

“I must speak with the captain.” A thought struck her mind and she said it before she could stop herself. “He is expecting me.”

There was a surprise in their faces. “Expecting you?” one challenged disrespectfully.

The one coiling the rope jammed him with an elbow. He was older than the two young sailors, his face grizzled and pocked, but he was notable for very sharp, gray eyes. He observed Lia and nodded. “I will take you, lass.”

“You will take her, Malcolm? What right do you have…”

“As much right as any man here. Shut your mouth before I do. Follow me, lass.” He did not look back at her and started up the gangplank. Lia shuddered involuntarily and followed, for the commotion on the dock had attracted the eyes of the crew. Many whistled and jeered at her and she swallowed the deep feeling of nervousness that clung to each breath. She saw that several had noticed her gladius, which raised eyebrows and infused them with curiosity. She kept her hood up, hiding her tangle of hair, but she could see them peering at her face as she approached. The sailor with the rope, Malcolm if she had heard correctly, reached the main deck and turned back, offering her his hand to assist her. When she took his grip, she felt the Medium spark between them. He stared into her eyes and she returned the look, but neither said anything.

She walked across the crowded deck, feeling the leers and grins surround her. He shoved past several rude sailors who hung so close there was hardly room to pass. Lia followed, uncomfortable by the press of bodies. A few whispers reached her ears that she had been purchased by the captain to sport with on the journey. Greedy eyes stared at her hungrily and a spasm of panic nearly threatened her composure. She trusted the Medium implicitly, but she felt she was in real danger. Guarding her fears, she kept her face solemn and resolved as she walked, remembering her courage when she had faced Almaguer’s men in the Bearden Muir.

Another man stepped in the way, one with hair as black as midnight and a wary look. “Who is this, Malcolm?”

“The captain is expecting her,” replied her escort.

“Do your work. I will take her from here.” He gazed at Lia with confusion and distrust.

“Sorry, sir. I must bring her to the captain.”

He spoke the words softly, almost too soft to hear, but Lia felt the spark of the Medium. The black-haired man started, looking confused, and then railed on the crew to get back to work. His gray-eyed gaze met hers and then he led her under the bulkhead into the narrow passage back to the captain’s quarters. He did not knock, only twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

“The Aldermaston will see you now,” he said, nodding to her.

Lia startled at the word, then gave him a thankful bow and proceeded. Upon opening the door, she saw the lushly furnished quarters and smelled the strong scents of breakfast lingering in the air. The captain was older, probably in his fifties, with streaks of gray in his reddish hair and beard.

Lower your hood.