The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

The king turned back to Prince Alluwyn. He had a similar expression on his face – a look of utter contempt. “Die, maston,” the king said with a look of satisfaction. He nodded to a knight with a huge battle axe gripped in his hands.

The Prince stared at the king, heard the mash of the earth as the boots approached him. He did not have much air for words. Already part of him was slipping away from his body. He felt the pull of the Apse Veil drawing him. He spoke in a clear voice, in the king’s own language. “Fitting that an arrow…brought me down. You will die the same way. A Pry-rian arrow…in your back.”

He remembered an oak tree struck by lightning on a hillside near a village called Winterrowd. He died just before the axe came down and severed his head from his body.





CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR:


Muirwood Burning





A sickening lurch plunged into Lia’s stomach as the Apse Veil drew her inside, hurtling her to Muirwood in an instant. She stumbled from the Apse Veil on the other side, falling to the ground with a rough jolt. Tremors shook her and, clenching her fists, she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the sensation of spinning long enough to brace herself. She opened her eyes again as she realized by the heat, haze, and smell that the Abbey was burning.

No!

Lia struggled to her feet, but clues were unmistakable. The dread and warning that had oppressed her in Dahomey was revealed fully – the Leerings throughout the Abbey were all burning, consuming the stone with raging fire. She marched past the Rood Screen, the intricate woodwork separating the inner sanctum from the large interior corridors. As she passed through the portal, she saw in horror that the vaulted ceiling was thick with swirling smoke and green tongues of fire. The stones were blackening quickly, charred and pocked by the intense heat coursing through the rock like blood. Smoke masked everything, and it took several halting steps before she saw the bodies.

Her heart panged with terror.

“Lia!”

As she approached, she saw a circle of individuals, kneeling and clasping each others hands, binding themselves together in a ring as they awaited their fate – death by fire or when the walls came down and crushed them.

“It is Lia!”

She came from the smoke fog and beheld faces that she had longed to see. Faces she had treasured and loved. Faces she would never forget. There was Sowe and Edmon, hand in hand, fingers tight and clenching, knuckles white. Marciana and Kieran Ven clutching each other as well as Pasqua and Prestwich. She knew the faces – Brynn, Siler, the children, all clustered together, holding each other’s hands – waiting for their fate. She recognized others, but her heart was too full and tears stung her eyes along with the acrid smoke. She did not see the Aldermaston among them.

“Where is the Aldermaston?” she begged as she approached, embracing Sowe after she surged to her feet and hugged her so tight it made both sob.

Sowe’s eyes were wet. “They bound him in ropes. They said…they said they would take him to the Tor to watch Muirwood burn. The Queen Dowager will kill him there.”

Lia nodded, her heart aching with pain. She was ferociously angry and knew she had to move quickly.

“Lia!” Marciana said, grasping her in another tight hug. Her face was joyous but alarmed. “Where is he? Where is Colvin?”

A chunk of burning stone whistled and crashed against the tiles, exploding with a shower of sparks and hissing flame. Everyone flinched.

“Everyone, come with me!” Lia shouted. “Bring nothing with you.”

“They have barricaded all the doors, child,” Prestwich said. “There is no way out.”

“There is,” Lia said. “Everyone, follow me!”

Another hissing rock landed nearby, another shower of sparks. Lia realized the flames would consume the Abbey in moments. Drawing deep within herself, she willed the fires to stop.

I am the Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey, obey me! she ordered, shoving the thoughts with all her might. The flames resisted her authority, roaring in defiance as they licked up the stones and consumed them. She shoved the thought again, commanding the fires to be tamed. Again, they resisted. She pressed harder with her mind as she ran to the corridor heading down to the lower chamber where she had received the first maston rites. She waved at the others to follow her. Down the steps they herded.

Obey me!

The fires began to give way, not losing their strength but she felt the Abbey resisting the spread of the flames, holding it back from consuming everything.

“Scream,” she said. “Make them believe you are dying. Make them believe we perish in the flames.”