The Scourge of Muirwood
Page 16
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Reome shook her head.
“You must tell me.”
Reome flinched. “It will be my death if I do.”
“I will protect you. Believe that. I will take your place and go inside. Let me free her and you can both go back to Muirwood. Please, Reome. You must tell me where she is.” Lia pushed the thought at her – along with her will, her intentions, her desire to protect Reome and her child. The Medium throbbed in the air and softened the look on Reome’s face.
“The east tower. That one,” she said, pointing. “But Lia, you cannot get to her. She is guarded day and night by a man. He…he frightens me. He said he would kill me if I told anyone she was here. They say…he kills mastons.”
A kishion.
Lia sighed deeply. She clenched her jaw and nodded firmly. The Medium would protect her. She pulled on the basket. “Give me your shawl.”
“Lia, I know you are a hunter…”
“You cannot go back there, Reome. Muirwood is the only place you can save your child. Do you have any money?”
“I have a little.”
“Then go home, Reome.”
She bit her lip. “How do you know…that Dieyre is lying? He is a noble. He would not abandon me.”
Lia stared her in the face. “I know Dieyre better than you do, Reome. I know about his false promises. You see, he tried to kill me. Quickly, give me your shawl.” The urgency to rescue Marciana burned inside her, compelling her to act quickly.
* * *
In the courtyard at the center of the Lambeth grounds was a giant oak tree, leafless and dying. Maybe the choking air had finally destroyed its growth. Perhaps some wasting sickness had struck its branches which were huge and pointed every direction like a sharpened hedgehog burrowing in the mud. Moss grew on one side and clumps of mistletoe buds were thick in the boughs. It was a dead thing – a shell of a tree. For a moment, it reminded Lia of the oak forest surrounding Muirwood and a chill went through her heart. The scarf covered her hair and she had traded cloaks with Reome to hide her hunter leathers. She had no time to conceal her bowstave, so she had given it to Reome to hold and sent her away with the arrow quiver. Lia carried her dirk with the hand supporting the basket beneath and had her unsheathed gladius hilt in the other hand, the blade resting atop the damp garments but underneath the wrap to conceal it. She wanted two weapons ready when she faced the kishion.
Martin had trained her well. She knew all the locations where to stab a man and kill in one thrust. She realized she might only have one chance to kill him. It was kill or be the victim herself. The Medium had led her to Comoros. Strangely, her life felt as if she were a small boat bobbing on a river rushing wildly through a maze of rocks and rapids. It pulled her quickly, no matter how she longed to slow it.
Her heart beat frantically as the porter opened the door and let her in. She did not acknowledge his curt greeting and merely tromped inside, clutching the basket to her bosom as she quickly surveyed the courtyard and saw the oak. The inner yard was a giant circle, grown with sod and ringed with cobblestones. She counted three doors giving access to the manor house from the interior, and one directly at the base of the tower Reome had pointed to. She took the pathway to the right and followed it towards the tower, her heart pounding in her ears. She wished she could have checked the Cruciger orb. Glancing at the upper windows, she noticed the heavy curtains blocking them. She had no idea what was happening inside.
A raven caw startled her and she noticed the black bird perched atop a flag spike. The building was larger than the Aldermaston’s manor house – it was two stories compared with one, and the towers rose to a third height, the main keep rising the highest of them all. The tower she sought was on the edge of the grounds, connecting to an outer wall with spikes fastened into the stone like a ridge of teeth. She crossed the path to the door and shoved at it with her basket. A porter opened the door and looked at her curiously. Lia glanced behind him and saw a stone stairwell ascending up the gullet. There were no other guards.
“Set the basket down by the brazier,” the porter told her. “I will carry it up later. They wish no interruptions.”
Lia nodded and carried the basket into the chamber and set it down by the brazier. She released the gladius blade resting in the basket but turned the dirk over in her hand to conceal it from him.
“Move along, girl.” He waved for her to leave the way she had come.
Lia walked towards the door and saw him glance outside and look at something that interested him. His distraction was all she needed. Her hunter training flowed back to her, filling her with knowledge. There was a spot on the back of the skull. With the dirk handle, she clubbed him there and his eyes rolled back in his head and she caught him as he fell and laid him out on the floor. Then she shut the door softly and glanced up the stairwell winding its way up within the tower. She could hear the murmur of voices, but could not discern any of the words.
“You must tell me.”
Reome flinched. “It will be my death if I do.”
“I will protect you. Believe that. I will take your place and go inside. Let me free her and you can both go back to Muirwood. Please, Reome. You must tell me where she is.” Lia pushed the thought at her – along with her will, her intentions, her desire to protect Reome and her child. The Medium throbbed in the air and softened the look on Reome’s face.
“The east tower. That one,” she said, pointing. “But Lia, you cannot get to her. She is guarded day and night by a man. He…he frightens me. He said he would kill me if I told anyone she was here. They say…he kills mastons.”
A kishion.
Lia sighed deeply. She clenched her jaw and nodded firmly. The Medium would protect her. She pulled on the basket. “Give me your shawl.”
“Lia, I know you are a hunter…”
“You cannot go back there, Reome. Muirwood is the only place you can save your child. Do you have any money?”
“I have a little.”
“Then go home, Reome.”
She bit her lip. “How do you know…that Dieyre is lying? He is a noble. He would not abandon me.”
Lia stared her in the face. “I know Dieyre better than you do, Reome. I know about his false promises. You see, he tried to kill me. Quickly, give me your shawl.” The urgency to rescue Marciana burned inside her, compelling her to act quickly.
* * *
In the courtyard at the center of the Lambeth grounds was a giant oak tree, leafless and dying. Maybe the choking air had finally destroyed its growth. Perhaps some wasting sickness had struck its branches which were huge and pointed every direction like a sharpened hedgehog burrowing in the mud. Moss grew on one side and clumps of mistletoe buds were thick in the boughs. It was a dead thing – a shell of a tree. For a moment, it reminded Lia of the oak forest surrounding Muirwood and a chill went through her heart. The scarf covered her hair and she had traded cloaks with Reome to hide her hunter leathers. She had no time to conceal her bowstave, so she had given it to Reome to hold and sent her away with the arrow quiver. Lia carried her dirk with the hand supporting the basket beneath and had her unsheathed gladius hilt in the other hand, the blade resting atop the damp garments but underneath the wrap to conceal it. She wanted two weapons ready when she faced the kishion.
Martin had trained her well. She knew all the locations where to stab a man and kill in one thrust. She realized she might only have one chance to kill him. It was kill or be the victim herself. The Medium had led her to Comoros. Strangely, her life felt as if she were a small boat bobbing on a river rushing wildly through a maze of rocks and rapids. It pulled her quickly, no matter how she longed to slow it.
Her heart beat frantically as the porter opened the door and let her in. She did not acknowledge his curt greeting and merely tromped inside, clutching the basket to her bosom as she quickly surveyed the courtyard and saw the oak. The inner yard was a giant circle, grown with sod and ringed with cobblestones. She counted three doors giving access to the manor house from the interior, and one directly at the base of the tower Reome had pointed to. She took the pathway to the right and followed it towards the tower, her heart pounding in her ears. She wished she could have checked the Cruciger orb. Glancing at the upper windows, she noticed the heavy curtains blocking them. She had no idea what was happening inside.
A raven caw startled her and she noticed the black bird perched atop a flag spike. The building was larger than the Aldermaston’s manor house – it was two stories compared with one, and the towers rose to a third height, the main keep rising the highest of them all. The tower she sought was on the edge of the grounds, connecting to an outer wall with spikes fastened into the stone like a ridge of teeth. She crossed the path to the door and shoved at it with her basket. A porter opened the door and looked at her curiously. Lia glanced behind him and saw a stone stairwell ascending up the gullet. There were no other guards.
“Set the basket down by the brazier,” the porter told her. “I will carry it up later. They wish no interruptions.”
Lia nodded and carried the basket into the chamber and set it down by the brazier. She released the gladius blade resting in the basket but turned the dirk over in her hand to conceal it from him.
“Move along, girl.” He waved for her to leave the way she had come.
Lia walked towards the door and saw him glance outside and look at something that interested him. His distraction was all she needed. Her hunter training flowed back to her, filling her with knowledge. There was a spot on the back of the skull. With the dirk handle, she clubbed him there and his eyes rolled back in his head and she caught him as he fell and laid him out on the floor. Then she shut the door softly and glanced up the stairwell winding its way up within the tower. She could hear the murmur of voices, but could not discern any of the words.
