The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3) (7 page)

She heard the sudden stomp of his boot, so she shut her eyes, not wanting to see the blade as it came down to end her. But the cut did not come—at least not for her. Gasps sounded from the crowd, and a commotion erupted on the platform. There were cries of pain, shouts of outrage, and Maia opened her eyes and whirled around to look.

The kishion was attacking the soldiers on the platform, cutting them down one by one with the greatsword. For a moment, she did not understand what was happening, and then her heart burst with relief at the realization that her protector was protecting her still. The kishion kicked a soldier in the ribs so hard he flew off the platform and into the mass of swarming men who had gathered to watch her die.

Forshee barked orders with uncontainable rage. There was no way the kishion could face so many foes singlehandedly, was there? Maia stood on shaking knees, watching the chaos unwind in the greenyard. The kishion cut down another man, and Maia spied Trefew cringing behind Suzenne, using her as a human shield. How she loathed him for his cowardice. Suzenne’s face was pinched with pain, but there was no fear there—only triumph.

The kishion untied something from his belt that looked like two glass cylinders stoppered with cork. He flung the vials off the platform, right by Forshee’s stamping horse. There was a flash of white and suddenly a mist began to fill the green with snaky tendrils. The people in the crowd began to scream in pain and terror as it licked against them.

Forshee’s mount bucked and threw him, adding to the tumult of the scene. People were fleeing in all directions to escape the choking mist, while soldiers charged from the castle to join the fray. Were they there to fight for Maia’s freedom, or her death? She could not tell amidst such confusion. The kishion shoved another man off the platform and then ripped off the leather executioner’s hood and dropped it at his feet.

“Follow me to safety,” he said, his smile savage. He rushed to the far end of the platform, reached into his belt again, and hurled another pair of glass vials onto the ground, which also erupted in a flash of seething smoke. More shouts and cries rocked the greenyard, and Maia heard her name screamed by Suzenne. She tried to turn, but the kishion grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the back edge of the platform.

“Jump!” he growled. Though she strained for Suzenne, the kishion pulled her with him, giving her no choice.

They landed with a jolt on the cobblestones. The mist was already reaching them, and the kishion grabbed a scarf from his pocket and held it to her mouth.

“Breathe through this,” he said, grabbing another one for himself.

She pressed the cloth to her mouth and felt its dampness against her skin. It smelled strongly of some pungent odor. The mist swarmed around them, its milky vapors dancing in the air.

“Find her! Find her!” someone shouted.

Wails of pain and suffering surrounded them, but the mist made it impossible to see. The kishion wrenched open a sack partly concealed beneath the platform and withdrew two cloaks. He hurriedly fit one around her shoulders and raised the cowl to cover her hair.

“Always hide your beauty,” he told her, his scars twitching with his smile. He tossed the greatsword down under the platform and then grabbed her hand again and pulled her deeper into the fog.

“Where is she?”

“I cannot see her!”

“It was the headsman. He betrayed us!”

“That was no headsman. It was the kishion!”

The panicked masses were escaping all around them as the kishion led her away from the platform. It pained her to realize that the kishion’s aim was to save only her. He was one man, and even a trained killer could not hope to defeat all the guards Crabwell would send after them. Her heart thundered inside her ribs from exertion and lingering fear, but she finally felt the thrill of having survived what had seemed a certain death sentence.

A soldier emerged from the mist in front of them, spluttering. “Hold there,” he ordered, reaching out to stop them.

The kishion released her and plunged a dagger into the soldier’s ribs and then grabbed him around the neck with his other hand and whipped him around, letting him tumble into a heap on the ground. The ruthless dispatch sickened Maia, but she also felt a certain degree of detachment, having seen so much death and violence in the past months.

Once again, the kishion grabbed her hand and pulled her after him. Her sense of direction was completely impaired by the commotion and the haze. She stumbled over the body of someone who had fallen, and saw the fine tunic and glittering vest of a nobleman she did not recognize. His felt cap had fallen, and his hair was askew. The kishion kicked him in the ribs in passing and pulled Maia back to her feet.

“Bar the gates!” someone was shouting. It was Trefew’s voice, full of wrath mixed with fear. What had he done with Suzenne? Was he still using her as a shield?

“The crowd is smashing them down!” someone replied. “The mob is coming! We must flee!”

Maia heard the churning roar of the castle that was indeed under siege. Her father was dead, and all law and order in Comoros had crumbled.

“Are you behind this mayhem?” Maia asked her companion, increasing her speed to match his.

“The wood was already cracked and dry,” he answered. “All it needed was a little spark. Wet wood only smokes, not burns. This way.”

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

“The main gates are being forced by the mayor and the ealdermen. But it is too crowded, and crowds are dangerous and difficult to predict. I have the porter key to get us out. This way.”

The haze was beginning to dispel, and she could see that only soldiers had remained around the gallows in the stinging smoke. They were clearly searching for something—for her.

The kishion grunted. “Too much wind. I thought it would last longer. Walk fast, but do not run. It will attract too much attention. Over by that arch. It leads to the porter door.”

Maia glanced back again, hoping for a glimpse of Suzenne, some sign that her friend was safe, and the kishion scolded her. “Focus, Maia. We are not to safety yet.”

She kept the pace he set, trying to stifle the thrill. “Did you poison my father?” she asked him bluntly, staring at the chin jutting from his cowl.

“Of course,” he answered flatly. “He betrayed our agreement. He and Lady Deorwynn were supposed to reinstate you.”

“Who will pay you now?”

He laughed coldly. “I do not work for your father any longer.”

“Who then?” she pressed. He had saved her today, just as he had saved her from the sheriff’s men at the abbey. To whom did he owe his allegiance?

“Stop!” someone shouted from behind. “You two. Stop in the name of the chancellor!”

“Run,” the kishion said, pulling her in the right direction as they broke into a sprint. Cries sounded behind them, followed by the percussive pounding of boots. The kishion directed her to the arches and then down a long, narrow alley set between two of the outer walls of the castle. The walls were too high to climb, but a narrow iron door was set into the stone at the far end. The stone was chalky gray and cold, the alley spotted with a brown moss that also marred the door.

The kishion thrust a key into her hand. “Unlock it. I will hold them back.”

Maia nearly dropped the key as she frantically searched for the keyhole. She found it just as the soldiers raced into the alley with their swords and pikes. She fit the key into the lock, her hands trembling, and tried to turn it.

It was stuck.

The kishion did not wait. He rushed the soldiers and threw one of his daggers, which caught a man in the neck. There was a clash of arms as the soldiers tried to rush him with their weapons, but the kishion struck and twisted like a serpent, wounding an enemy with each jab. He took another vial out of his vest and threw it against the breastplate of one of his attackers. This time fire erupted from the contents instead of mist. The soldier screamed in pain and flailed his arms, exuding the sickening smell of sizzling meat.

Desperate, Maia used both hands to wrench on the key, and it finally groaned and turned. The bolt slid free. Using her shoulder, she shoved at the door, barely managing to budge it. The kishion attacked ten men at once, ducking and weaving and jabbing his daggers into their vulnerable parts. She gritted her teeth and continued to shove against the door, managing to slowly grind the warped wood against the stone, inch by slow inch. Through the gap, she saw another alley, littered with trash and crowded with pigeons. The birds cooed angrily and flapped away.

The kishion was suddenly next to her, and when he slammed his shoulder against the door, it swung open easily, as if without any effort.

“Almost free,” he said exultantly. “The city is crying for you, Maia. They want you to be their queen. They
need
you.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into the alley, glancing back several times to see if they were being pursued. How had he struck down so many so quickly? She realized that he had not. His chemicals or devices were causing fear. The soldiers had run away.

She sensed two Leerings built into the stone walls as she approached the mouth of the alley. They radiated fear, and she could sense their purpose through her Gift of Invocation. They protected these walls and especially the porter door. Men feared to enter the alley, and so it was cluttered by debris that had been blown in by the wind.

“There!” someone shouted behind them. More soldiers spilled through the breached porter door and started pursuing them.

The kishion whirled to face them, his eyes full of anger. He was going to dispatch them as he had the others.

“No,” Maia said, grabbing his arm. “I can stop them. This way.”

She pulled him toward the edge of the alley and directed her thoughts at the Leerings, commanding them to prevent people from
leaving
the alley instead of approaching it. She felt the Leerings respond to her thoughts, and suddenly waves of terror and dread washed over her. She pulled the kishion into the street, beyond the Leerings’ range. The streets here were teeming with people, many of them carrying shovels or spades and chanting. She glanced back at the alley, where the soldiers now cowered in place, overcome by the fear caused by the Leerings. They would neither be able to pursue them nor track their steps.

“Clever,” the kishion praised. They walked swiftly, putting distance between themselves and Pent Tower. Maia saw the steeple of Claredon Abbey ahead—
escape
. But Suzenne and Dodd were still back at the castle, and she was unwilling to abandon her friends.

“The mayor is part of this revolt?” she asked him.

The kishion nodded. “He is loyal to you, Maia. Most of the city is loyal to you. Most of the realm is as well. They are teetering on the brink.
You
will steady them. You were meant for this.”

She stared at him and began to understand the look in his eyes. The cynical, murderous part of him was sloughing off. The look he gave her was almost . . . tender. He respected her. He admired her.

She was surprised. “You did this . . . for me?” she whispered.

He met her look and nodded curtly. “I do not serve the Victus. I do not serve Deorwynn. I serve you. My lady. My queen.”

Maia trembled at what he said. Fear coiled in her heart like a serpent. The look in his eyes. He was staring at her with . . . an eagerness she was unaccustomed to seeing in him. The pressing need to find safety brought her back to the present moment.

“Do you know where Flax Street is?” she asked him. “Can you take me there?”

He nodded. “It is nearby.”

It was where Collier had told her she would find the business of Simon Fox, his spy from Dahomey. She knew the man was also a spy of the Victus, but he was betraying the Dochte Mandar to support Maia’s grandmother.

They walked, hand in hand, through the crowded street. Maia was appalled at the filth clogging the gutters, the broken windows and lopsided houses and shops. Flies buzzed around the commotion, heedless of the human troubles, seeking their foul nectars to drink. The stench in the air was strong. The city was large and had never been as clean as the streets of Rostick, but it had never been this foul. Her father’s misdeeds had drowned his kingdom in sorrow and filth.

As they reached Flax Street, Maia could discern the scent of wine from the other odors. She saw several shops before her eyes fixed on the one with Fox’s name. They hurried toward it, each step feeling lighter and more hopeful.

“I must leave you now,” the kishion said, releasing her hand. “I know you will be safe here.” He stared into her eyes without looking away.

Yes, there it was again—something had changed in this hard man. There was devotion in his gaze . . . ardent devotion. What had she done to deserve it?

She had saved his life from the Fear Liath. She recalled the last words they had spoken when he lay crippled by his wounds. He had asked her to leave him. To escape him. She had denied him vehemently and brought him to a healer at the village below Cruix Abbey.

“Where are you going?” Maia asked fearfully.

He smirked. “You would not approve. The chancellor is the next to fall. When the mayor brings you to the palace, you will find it ready to welcome you. Farewell, Maia. I will be near if you need me.”

Without another word, he turned and vanished into the crowded street beyond.

CHAPTER SIX