The Blight of Muirwood
Page 98
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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
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR:
Distant Shores
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.
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
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR:
Distant Shores
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.
