The Blight of Muirwood
Page 115
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“What is this?” he said, a smile brightening his face. “You did it? Well, I ought not to be so amazed, but here you are before me. Hello, lass. We meet again.” He walked up to them, his eyes wide with excitement. “You have been in the back woods, then? Have you had any news in your travels? Do you know what happened?”
Lia was not sure whether he meant the Blight or not. “What have you heard?”
“Word from Caerdeth,” he said, waving them towards the boat. “You remember, it is the trading town further north. Word arrived for the castellan. Well, secrets do not keep for long. Especially when he raised the drawbridge. Someone smuggled the word out though, and now everyone is talking of little else.”
“What is it?” Lia pressed.
“Word came that Demont’s army has fallen. It was led into a trap by one of the earls and there was a battle. Not a survivor. They were all killed. Every last maston.”
Colvin grabbed his arm. “When did this news come?”
“Yesterday,” the boatman replied. “That was when the castellan raised the drawbridge. He is expecting a revolt, no doubt. With turmoil on the other side of the sea, he may as well expect a siege on this side. He will not be the castellan long, I fear. One of our archers will make a target of him. I will ferry you across now, but I will be coming back tonight. I have sent my family to stay with my mother until I return. I only stayed because I promised you I would. But I will not risk my hide living in Comoros now.”
Colvin’s eyes burned with anger. So many complex emotions played across his face. She understood too well some of what he was feeling. With Demont dead, everything had changed. A man he had admired and respected was gone. Also lost was his position on the Privy Council. Ellowyn’s surviving relation was dead. She was the last Demont now. And the ones who had wanted him dead would want her life as well.
“Uncle…?” Ellowyn started to ask, but Colvin shook his head at her forcefully to silence her. Why reveal too much to the boatman?
“Come now,” Pen-Ilyn said, walking towards the boat. “There is only some little sunlight left in the day, and I will be rowing hard. I know the tidings are bad. Just be grateful you were not there when all the mastons fell. I am sure it was a butchery like at Maseve. It is a dark day when mastons die.”
Ellowyn gasped, the information finally seeming to sink in.
Exhausted, they followed Pen-Ilyn into the craft, catching his hand for balance as they boarded. Not only was the boat rocking treacherously. It seemed everything else in her life was bobbing too.
* * *
“To the person who does not know where he wants to go there is no favorable wind.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER FORTY:
Escape
The three were exhausted from their flight over the mountains of Pry-Ree and slept in the boat as Pen-Ilyn braced himself against the oars and rowed. He wanted to return before dark, so he put his muscles to the labor and the boat sliced through the choppy waters. Lia wavered in and out of sleep, lulled by the motion. No sooner had she drifted off when the boatman’s voice rose over the din.
“The shore. We moved faster than I thought, though the wind was behind us. It has been a lonely trip with the three of you snoring. But I have done my duty. I am sure you are weary from your journey.”
Lia blinked awake and sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she gazed at the bend of land looming in the distance. The thatched dwelling was there somewhere, but she could not see it through the screen of trees. The little dock was a spur against the gray waters. It was empty of craft or person.
She stared at the dock, her mind in a fog of weariness and lack of sleep. Should not Edmon be there? And horses left to escort them?
Lia turned to Colvin, who was brooding, gazing at the shoreline. “I do not see anyone waiting for us. Do you?”
He shook his head. “That concerns me.”
“Bridgestow is not far away,” Lia murmured. “He could have easily gone and returned with horses. If news of Demont’s defeat reached Caerneth, it should have reached Bridgestow first. That town was loyal.”
Colvin looked back at her, his eyes narrow and distrustful. “What if he never made it there?”
A stab of worry bloomed in her stomach. It made her sick inside. “Dieyre?”
“What did he want more than anything else?” Colvin said in a low voice. “He already knew Demont was going to fall. He already knew the powers within the kingdom would shift. He knew it was happening all along. Even if he had convinced us to join his side, it was already too late.”
Lia was not sure whether he meant the Blight or not. “What have you heard?”
“Word from Caerdeth,” he said, waving them towards the boat. “You remember, it is the trading town further north. Word arrived for the castellan. Well, secrets do not keep for long. Especially when he raised the drawbridge. Someone smuggled the word out though, and now everyone is talking of little else.”
“What is it?” Lia pressed.
“Word came that Demont’s army has fallen. It was led into a trap by one of the earls and there was a battle. Not a survivor. They were all killed. Every last maston.”
Colvin grabbed his arm. “When did this news come?”
“Yesterday,” the boatman replied. “That was when the castellan raised the drawbridge. He is expecting a revolt, no doubt. With turmoil on the other side of the sea, he may as well expect a siege on this side. He will not be the castellan long, I fear. One of our archers will make a target of him. I will ferry you across now, but I will be coming back tonight. I have sent my family to stay with my mother until I return. I only stayed because I promised you I would. But I will not risk my hide living in Comoros now.”
Colvin’s eyes burned with anger. So many complex emotions played across his face. She understood too well some of what he was feeling. With Demont dead, everything had changed. A man he had admired and respected was gone. Also lost was his position on the Privy Council. Ellowyn’s surviving relation was dead. She was the last Demont now. And the ones who had wanted him dead would want her life as well.
“Uncle…?” Ellowyn started to ask, but Colvin shook his head at her forcefully to silence her. Why reveal too much to the boatman?
“Come now,” Pen-Ilyn said, walking towards the boat. “There is only some little sunlight left in the day, and I will be rowing hard. I know the tidings are bad. Just be grateful you were not there when all the mastons fell. I am sure it was a butchery like at Maseve. It is a dark day when mastons die.”
Ellowyn gasped, the information finally seeming to sink in.
Exhausted, they followed Pen-Ilyn into the craft, catching his hand for balance as they boarded. Not only was the boat rocking treacherously. It seemed everything else in her life was bobbing too.
* * *
“To the person who does not know where he wants to go there is no favorable wind.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER FORTY:
Escape
The three were exhausted from their flight over the mountains of Pry-Ree and slept in the boat as Pen-Ilyn braced himself against the oars and rowed. He wanted to return before dark, so he put his muscles to the labor and the boat sliced through the choppy waters. Lia wavered in and out of sleep, lulled by the motion. No sooner had she drifted off when the boatman’s voice rose over the din.
“The shore. We moved faster than I thought, though the wind was behind us. It has been a lonely trip with the three of you snoring. But I have done my duty. I am sure you are weary from your journey.”
Lia blinked awake and sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she gazed at the bend of land looming in the distance. The thatched dwelling was there somewhere, but she could not see it through the screen of trees. The little dock was a spur against the gray waters. It was empty of craft or person.
She stared at the dock, her mind in a fog of weariness and lack of sleep. Should not Edmon be there? And horses left to escort them?
Lia turned to Colvin, who was brooding, gazing at the shoreline. “I do not see anyone waiting for us. Do you?”
He shook his head. “That concerns me.”
“Bridgestow is not far away,” Lia murmured. “He could have easily gone and returned with horses. If news of Demont’s defeat reached Caerneth, it should have reached Bridgestow first. That town was loyal.”
Colvin looked back at her, his eyes narrow and distrustful. “What if he never made it there?”
A stab of worry bloomed in her stomach. It made her sick inside. “Dieyre?”
“What did he want more than anything else?” Colvin said in a low voice. “He already knew Demont was going to fall. He already knew the powers within the kingdom would shift. He knew it was happening all along. Even if he had convinced us to join his side, it was already too late.”
