The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

The Dochte Mandar who had asked the question suddenly turned on her, as if he had heard the thought. “What village do you hail from, lass?”


The full weight of the Medium slammed into her, nearly making her mind go black. There were three of them pushing against her, using their kystrels to swarm her feelings with the sensations of worthlessness, shame, humiliation, foreboding. It struck her so forcefully that she lost thought of who she was for a moment and could only stand there blinking, trying to remember her own name.

She almost said Muirwood. The compulsion to say it was so strong, the word nearly slipped out of her mouth. They would know of her Abbey, she realized. Yet she also realized she had to speak truthfully.

“I hail from Pry-Ree. I seek work as a cook at Dochte Abbey,” she said, fighting against the surging feelings.

“You hail from Pry-Ree?” came a startled response.

“It is true,” answered another. “She speaks the truth. She is from Pry-Ree.”

Lia swallowed, struggling against the feelings of unworthiness.

“We have enough scum from Pry-Ree as it is,” said the third. “Go your way then. You are a foreigner, child. I can hear it in your accent. But if you would stay in Dahomey, you must also accept the water rite. Do it, while you are here. It will protect you from the Blight.”

“Thank you, masters,” Lia said respectfully.

“Have you encountered any mastons in your journeys?” he asked her.

Lia nodded. “Several. There are a few left in Pry-Ree. Most are in hiding.”

“The mastons are the source of the Blight that comes,” he responded. “They must be sought after and found. If you find a maston, you must tell one of us. Do you understand, child?”

The Medium crushed against her will. She resisted it, but the weight of it was so strong she nearly revealed that she was one. “Yes, masters.”

The three horseman rode on, muttering amongst themselves as they passed.

Lia breathed deeply. It took several moments for her feelings to subside. She understood what had happened to Marciana better. A Dochte Mandar had manipulated her feelings. Even knowing it was not real, she could not deny that the feelings she experienced were quite real. They were so powerful, she wondered if she could have resisted if more had been there. Their power increased with numbers, she realized. A lone maston would not be able to stand against many.

“Jouvent, you must tell me this. What is the water rite? I have not heard of it.”

The boy looked terrified. “It is one of the maston rites. When the Dochte Mandar opened the Abbeys to all, they said that all must join in the rites. The water rite is one. They have a holy bowl and cup their hands and pour water on your head. For babes, they dip their fingers in the bowl and swipe it across their foreheads, here…” He demonstrated. “I did not know there were babies to be mastons.”

“There are not,” Lia replied, sick inside at what was happening. “This is wrong. This is very wrong.”

“I must get back to mother,” Jouvent said. “Thy way is clear to the Abbey. I must be past the forest by dark.”

“Jouvent,” Lia said, stopping him. Her feelings still trembled from the power of the Dochte Mandar. “The mastons are not causing the Blight. That was a lie.”

“I know.”

“But he was not lying about one part. Something will happen at Twelfth Night. If I do not return to Vezins soon – if I am delayed – you must seek the captain of the Holk – the ship that I sailed on. His name is Tomas Aldermaston. You and your mother must be on board by Twelfth Night.” She gripped his shoulder and forced him to look at her. “Do you understand me, Jouvent? The Blight is coming and it will come by Twelfth Night. There is not much time left.”

“Aye.” He smashed the cap back on his head and started back the way they had come.

“Good boy,” Lia said. She turned and faced the giant mountain, the Abbey where Colvin and Ellowyn had come earlier and could not leave because of the Queen Dowager. She was in custody in Muirwood. Colvin and Ellowyn were in custody in Dochte.

She had the suspicion that it was not by chance that it had worked out that way.

Squaring her shoulders and striding forward, she approached the outer walls of Dochte Abbey and walked towards the nearest gate. After reaching into the pouch at her waist, she withdrew the orb. Who should she find first? Colvin or Martin?

As she stared up at the sculpted stone walls, the endless rows of shingles and chimneys and trees, she was awed by its presence. The sight of Muirwood had always made her experience the Medium. It felt like home. Dochte Abbey was ancient and splendid. It dwarfed any structure she had ever seen, including the castles at Comoros. But there was no feeling of light and warmth coming from it. The feeling it exuded was one of utter blackness.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:


Hetaera