The Blight of Muirwood
Page 99
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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.
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.
