The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

Dahomey was a strange land with many strange sights. The woods were thick with beeches and oaks, which reminded Lia of Muirwood. At dawn, they reached the edge of the Huelgoat Forest without seeing any sign of Dieyre’s men in pursuit. Lia had used all of the tricks Martin had trained her on to disguise their path and trail and to be wary for any sign of pursuers. Worry throbbed in her heart and she constantly glanced backwards, trying to discern the sound of anything amiss. The forest was crowded with moss-covered boulders, jumbled together for leagues, as if some mighty mountain had been smashed. Some of the rocks were amazingly balanced, huge round heads topping smaller stones that gave them the appearance of mushrooms. It gave them plenty of places to hide, but it also shielded sounds from reaching them. Without the orb or Jouvent, she would have become hopelessly lost amidst the treacherous path, but he knew the way and guided her through the forest by noontime.

“Thou art not from Dahomey,” he said astutely. “I know not where, but not here. Why seekest the Abbey? ‘Tis not safe for mastons there.”

Lia glanced down at him. “Why do you say that?” she pressed.

His nose pinched. “The Dochte Mandar. They be the ones who offer coin for a maston’s telling. Silver eyes and painted faces. They see into your heart. I shudder when I cross one.”

“Who are these Dochte Mandar?” Lia said. “Did they come from the Abbey?”

“Aye, they did. They say that all ‘un should go inside the Abbey. That the secrets should be known by all. In Dahomey, all the Abbeys are opened. And the Dochte Mandar taunt and prod and snare any lad or lass who wander by. Their faces were painted black and they were strange to be seen. Nowaday every person is staining their faces and arms like the Dochte Mandar. There are needles and black ink. Folk get poked and stung. It hurts, so they say. But thou are not painted with ink or shadows.” He looked at her shrewdly. “They at the Abbey are painted. They will see thou art a foreigner.”

Lia nodded, thinking about the predicament. In her mind, the Dochte Mandar were the minions of the hetaera. They painted themselves and others with tattoos to hide the kystrel’s curse. Instead of it being a mark to separate themselves from others, they forced others to embrace the branding to mold them after their image. The notion repulsed her, but she realized that not having a tattoo would make her stand out among them. With offers of reward for turning in mastons, she would need to be very cautious as to who she could trust. She believed that with the Cruciger orb’s help, she could find her way to Colvin, Ellowyn, and Martin. However, it was only a matter of time before Dieyre went looking for his men and discovered that she was heading there. As they walked, she looked backwards constantly towards the forest, hoping to catch a sign of riders with enough time to hide themselves.

“That way,” Jouvent said, pointing towards the shore. “The tide is gone now. Thou wilt get wet as we pass to the Abbey.”

They changed direction and followed into the wetlands which were spongy and soft and little bubbles appeared all along the sandy shore. Tall boulders loomed in the distance, offering a jagged edge to the horizon. The air smelled of salt and dozens of gulls glided overhead. The walk was slow going because of the shifting sand and they left a trail of pockmarks that slowly filled in and vanished. It would be difficult tracking someone in the sandy muck. At times the water was up to the cuffs of their boots, but it was always low enough to keep trudging and would disappear entirely as they reached little cusps of land. The walk was long and tedious, and Lia’s heart vexed her with anticipation. Each step brought her closer to him. Her stomach fluttered with nervousness.

“There,” Jouvent said, pointing. “Dochte Abbey.”