The Blight of Muirwood (36 page)

Lia risked a look and it was confirmed. Two of the watch were heading towards them, following the trampled grass to their hiding spot. Lia noticed a huge chunk of thatch was missing from the roof, leaving a gaping hole on that side. Someone had obviously seen it.

“Where is Ellowyn?” Lia whispered, clutching Marciana’s shoulder and squeezing her firmly. “In the house?”

Marciana shook her head violently. “No, she left by boat this morning. Edmon is in the house! If they search the rafters, they will find him. Did Colvin find you?”

Lia smiled comfortingly. “Behind me. Take the children and flee deeper into the woods. Find a place to hide. I will come for you.”

“Lia, I am so grateful…”

“Go!” Lia said, cutting her off. The soldiers were so near, she did not want them hearing. She gripped Marciana’s gown and tugged her to get her moving. She clutched a small child, probably two years old in her arms, covering his mouth. The other two were little girls, probably five and eight and they looked at Lia with surprise and wonder.

“You will be safe,” Lia murmured to them in Pry-rian and their gapes turned into grins.

“Here he is!” bellowed a voice from inside the dwelling. “Up in the rafters, hiding in the thatch!”

“Bring him down!” ordered another voice. “Bring him out here. Where is the girl? Did you find the girl?”

The sound of sudden commotion in the house caused a lot of attention, except the two soldiers approaching were not deterred. They were following the footprints closely, moving into the fern and looking at the trampled leaves. She could see their shadows and hear the crunch of their boots as they closed in on where she was hiding. Her mind raced through the options. Where were Colvin and Dieyre? How close were they behind her? Had they seen Marciana moving deeper into the gorse?

The commotion in the house turned louder, and something crashed and cracked.

“He has a maston sword!” someone roared. “He stabbed Kelton!”

“A maston?” shouted the other man. The one she assumed was the leader. With a voice full of hate and bitterness, he said savagely, “Fetch him down and kill him!”

Lia’s blood ran cold. The Medium surged inside of her. She felt strength and calm flooding her.

“There!” rang a voice just beyond the nest of witch hazel. “I see her! Running with the children!”

There was no more time to plot and plan. There was only time to act.

Rising from her crouch, Lia lifted her bow. The first sentry was hardly five paces away from her when the arrow sank into his heart. It nearly went all the way through him. As he collapsed without a grunt, she had another arrow on the string. The Dahomeyjan knight looked shocked, his sword coming up to try and ward off the blow as the second arrow loosed and he too crumpled to the ground.

With blood pounding in her ears, Lia drew another shaft from her quiver and rushed into the clearing.

* * *

“Most people ebb and flow in torment between the fear of death and the hardship of life; they are unwilling to live, and yet they do not know how to die. Rehearse death. To say this is to tell a maston to rehearse his freedom. A person who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave to fear. He is above, or at any rate, beyond the reach of all political powers.”

- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey

* * *

The two knights had fallen without a sound. Lia rushed across the clearing to the house in a moment of pure confusion. She heard the clang of metal on metal inside, the grunt of fighting in close quarters. Edmon was outnumbered. She knew they would hack him down because he wore the sword of a maston – just as the sheriff’s men had killed his brother.

“From the woods, an archer! A Pry-rian!” came a cry of alarm.

Lia rounded the side of the house into a mass of soldiers, clustered near the door to witness the execution. Lia could tell the leader – his hair was shocked with gray, his beard peppered with black. He had the comfortable poise of a man who was used to killing and butchery. Her next arrow brought him down.

Complete chaos ensued.

“Get her! Kill her!”

“No, it is the Abbey hunter!”

“Watch her bow!”

Two of the men broke and ran. The rest raised their swords and rushed at her. Lia sent another man to his death. There was a swarm of black tunics and glinting blades. She had to run – there was no way to stand against so many. What was she thinking, running into the midst of them? All she knew is she had to get to Edmon before they killed him.

The thud of running boots behind her and she whirled, ready to bring down the other knights she knew would be closing in behind her. Before she loosed the arrow, she recognized Colvin and Dieyre. Behind them, the two sentries at the fringe of the woods were sprawled on the ground. Colvin charged like a crazed wolf, sword high in the hand, his eyes terrible with anger, his face contorted into a snarl.

“Back to the woods!” he snapped at her as he rushed past, thrusting himself into the midst of the knights, his weapon scything through the mass of bodies. Dieyre’s look was equally fierce, his step just slightly behind as he too charged into the mass of men. Lia backed away from the conflict, the sudden flail of bodies and spatter of blood. For a moment, she watched in horror and awe. Colvin and Dieyre fought like madmen, their blades whipping around so fast and deadly, the surprised knights stumbled back, desperate to save themselves, even though they had more numbers. Another ran and Lia shot him down before he could reach the horses.

Then she remembered Edmon.

Colvin and Dieyre’s charge thrust the mass of men away from the dwelling, leaving a gap in the doorway. She nearly tripped over the corpse of the leader, and went inside, blackened with soot smoke. One man was crumpled on the ground, clutching a bleeding wrist. Edmon was face-first on the ground, stunned, a knight above him with a naked sword.

Lia raised the bow and felled him with an arrow. There were three more men, including the wounded one. As she reached in the quiver, her fingers met nothing. The rest of the arrows were gone, still attached to her saddle. Furious, Lia screamed at them, a cry of rage and hate and drew her dagger and gladius.

One of the knights thrust his sword down at Edmon’s back. She watched the blade strike the ground. Edmon had twisted away just in time. His boots kicked out at one of the knights, snapping his knee and the man roared with agony.

The room was so small. Lia ran at them, spinning around once while she ducked and thrust her gladius into the man’s belly. As she untwirled, she deflected a blade with her dagger and pulled her weapon free, loosing a gush of blood. Edmon wrestled with the wounded knight and took away his sword. It was two on two. The knights attacked, slicing at Lia and Edmon, but Lia felt the Medium coursing through her, strengthening her. Blocking the blow, she stepped in, stomping on his foot, crippling him. Catching his sword guard with her gladius and locking it, she thrust the dagger into his navel and jerked the blade, killing him. Edmon’s blade whirled around and the last man sagged to his knees, headless.

Lia pulled her weapons free and whirled at the creeping movement in the corner of her vision. The knight with the wounded wrist was carefully sneaking towards the door. When their eyes met, he quavered with fear and babbled for mercy in Dahomeyjan.

She raised her gladius and pointed the blade at him. “Stay there. If you even twitch, I will kill you.”

Edmon mopped blood from his nose. “Lia!” he gasped with relief. “You speak Dahomeyjan? I cannot believe it! You came…I had almost given up hope…but I did not. I knew the Medium would protect me, as it had during Winterrowd.”

A body filled the doorway and Lia spun around, ready to fight again, but it was Colvin.

“I heard your scream,” he gasped to Lia, the sweat from his face mingling with his opponent’s blood. He planted his hand on the doorframe to steady himself. He looked at the shivering knight on the ground, glaring at him.

“Mercy!” the man squeaked in a trembling tone.

Lia sheathed her weapons and then picked up her discarded bow. “Did you see your sister?” she asked Colvin. “She is in the woods.”

He shook his head. “No, I saw you charge. There you were, one little girl charging into the midst of Dahomeyjan knights. Lia, what were you thinking!”

Edmon stepped forward, breathing heavily. “If she did not, I would be dead right now.”

“Yes, a
great
loss,” Dieyre murmured from behind Colvin. He looked sardonic as usual. “Lucky the lass was here to save your neck, York.”

Edmon stared in surprise. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Murdering my allies,” he quipped. “Do not look so shocked. I have my reasons, as you may well suspect. Ah, one of them lived. Are we going to question him or just dispatch him?”

“Let him go,” Colvin said bluntly. “He is of no use to us.” His eyes narrowed and fastened on Edmon. “Where is Ellowyn?”

Edmon frowned, crestfallen. “The Pry-rians took her this morning. There is a dock on the other side of those trees. She is gone to Pry-Ree already.”

* * *

For a long while after the battle was over and the bodies of the dead were removed, Lia leaned against a tree outside the family hut, breathing deeply, struggling to control her emotions. After Winterrowd, she had been haunted by the images in her mind of the dead. But that was different, since she was the cause of only one of them and that was done at a distance and she did not have to look into the lusterless eyes of her victims. Her feelings were conflicted and raw and she wiped her eyes and nose, trying to subdue her feelings. Martin had warned her that death brought many emotions. There was the thrill of battle, a sense of being aware of every breath and every murmur of sound, of using skills to stay alive. There were sounds and sights that would never be sponged from her memories. Even though the Medium had wanted her to save Edmon, it still shocked her how efficient she had been in killing others and how powerful it made her feel. Part of her had even enjoyed it, and that knowledge made her shrink inside herself and cringe with remorse.

The remaining horses, save one, were set loose to wander the Bearden Muir. Lia thought with amazement at the short work of the battle. The three of them had killed nearly twenty men. Two had escaped by horseback at the beginning of the battle. The wounded man was let go and he slinked away after Lia had paused to treat his wound, much to Dieyre’s disgust. He was just as well leaving the corpses to litter the grounds, but Colvin had insisted they clear away the dead.

Colvin found Lia in the woods, his expression grim and hardened, and asked for her help communicating with the mother of the children who gibbered at them in Pry-rian.

Lia dried her eyes and met with the mother and was able to determine much from the woman about the family they had discovered. They lived in the wilderness and her husband rowed a small boat back and forth to Pry-Ree once each day. They ferried goods to trade, occasionally travelers, and did well enough to support themselves year to year. All goods brought in to Bridgestow were taxed by the king, so her husband’s business was small but prosperous as a way of circumventing the taxes. After much hard rowing day after day, the husband had determined their specific location was the shortest distance between Pry-Ree and their kingdom, and thus the least amount of work for a man who earned his living by rowing. He had built the thatched cottage himself in that spot and the pier to dock his boat. He would return by nightfall from having taken Martin and the visitors across the narrow strip of sea that separated the two kingdoms. The family was not involved in the plot to abduct Ellowyn. In fact, they did not know who she was, other than some highborn guest. There were eight men, including Martin. Just enough to fit in the boat for the journey there and back. And because they had not crossed at Bridgestow, the sheriff of the Hundred had not known they were there or when they arrived.

It was just like Martin, Lia realized. He had planned the escape perfectly, knowing how many men he would need and how to avoid the places where he might be accosted. They had traveled on foot, which slowed their progress. She wondered whether they would have caught up to them if they had not slept during the night.

“Those soldiers discovered the smoke from our chimney,” the woman explained to Lia. She cuddled with her children, grateful to be alive when so many had been butchered on her doorstep. Her name was Aerona and she had introduced her two oldest daughters, Blodyn and Dilys, and her infant, Cowan. “They arrived without warning, we only had time to hide the children in the loft. I was so frightened. Edmon helped the little ones escape from the thatch, but the knights shoved their way in and saw him in the light. I was so fearful my little ones would be hurt. I speak very little of your language. You speak our tongue very well. What clan are you from?”

Lia evaded the question by explaining her remarks to the three earls. Nightfall was approaching and Aerona was anxious for the return of her husband.

Dieyre paced as she listened, absorbing the information. Lia noticed that Marciana glanced at him surreptitiously. All of their horses were saddled, in case they needed to escape quickly. Edmon stood watch.