The Scourge of Muirwood
Page 85
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“Drink it,” he offered. “It will soothe your thirst and strengthen your hold on her mind. Does she fight you still?”
Dieyre’s arms were folded and he looked at her curiously, his face crinkling with thoughts. “Are you certain it worked?”
The Aldermaston gave him a waspish look. “Of course it did. No one has ever returned from the lair themselves. No one.” He turned back to Lia. “What is your name?”
Lia parted her lips to speak, to whisper, and the Aldermaston bent lower to hear it.
She hit him as hard as she could in the face. The blow crushed his nose and there was blood everywhere, spurting as he roared with pain and flailed backwards. Lia swung her leg around and kicked one of the Dochte Mandar in the chest, shoving him back. Her strength ebbed like sand gushing from a ripped bag, but she managed to find the floor and continued the attack.
The two Dochte Mandar in front of her snarled with fury and their eyes blazed silver-white. She was assailed by terror, their own terror, but she brushed the emotions aside. She dropped low and clubbed one in the groin with her fist and then backturned her knuckles as he crumpled in agony and struck his temple. The blast of emotions intensified like a storm, but she fought against it. The fear rolled over her like oil and slipped away, unable to sink inside her. The Aldermaston cupped his face in his hands, cowering from her, but the other Dochte Mandar barraged her with emotions, trying to smother her with them like heavy blankets. But the feelings would not stick. They slid off her harmlessly.
Her knees buckled with weariness, but she was determined to fight to the last.
“I am Lia!” she said savagely. “I am myself and no other. I passed the ordeal. I spoke the truth.”
The white eyes blazed with determination. They thrust feeling after feeling against her as they backed away, amazed at the strength of her will. Lia rushed forward and tripped one of them, yanking on his sleeve to topple him to the ground. She was about to tear after the other when she remembered Dieyre.
Too late – his arm clamped around her throat and he hoisted her backwards so that her feet left the ground. She struggled and thrashed, trying to claw him with her nails, but his leverage and stance was perfect. Her air vanished. She could not breathe. The bulging muscle in his arm flexed and there were dots spattering in front of her eyes. She pulled against his arm, trying to clear her throat for a gasp. Dizziness washed over her and then she was face down on the bed, coughing and spluttering.
“You are pathetic,” Dieyre snarled. “The lot of you. Stanch the blood, Aldermaston. Your nose is broken, but you will not die of it. And you - do something useful instead of clutching your manhood and moaning, you craven soot. Send for the kishion. Move man, before I get even more angry.”
Lia heard sounds, but she was gasping for air. It took several moments before she could see again and she whirled on the bed. Dieyre stood over her, arms folded, his eyes intense.
“They are gone,” he said, nodding towards the room. She recognized it as his bedchamber. “I will grant you that when you last left this place, I truly believed you would return a different person. I am in shock but not…surprised. You have always had a habit of thwarting my plans. Yet I can see that it is you still. I recognize the defiance that should have been purged by now. How did you manage it, Lia? You are as stubborn as an ass in the mud.”
Lia trembled with rage. She wanted to flail at him with her fists, but she knew she was too weak and tired.
“What day is it?” she asked him in a low tone.
“Twelfth Night,” he replied. “The sun is about to set.” His face twisted with irony. “So I would assume it means that the Blight is truly coming?”
Lia nodded.
“How?”
“I do not know,” she answered, her shoulders slumping. “Where is Colvin?”
The smirk that came in answer was infuriating. “He left the night before last. We gave you a proper burial, of course. You looked disgusting with all those purple bite marks when you were lifted from the lair. But the bruising is fading.” He gave her a scrutinizing look. “The venom of the snakes is not fatal, as you have no doubt realized. It feigns death. But it does not kill. It makes it easier for the Myriad Ones to take over. To settle.”
She was relieved that Colvin was gone. He thought she was dead, however. That was a problem.
“So you do not know how the Blight will come?” Dieyre pressed intently.
She shook her head. “It comes tonight. It will strike here first.”
“Do you remember the promise you made to me?” he asked. “More like a prophecy than a promise.”
Dieyre’s arms were folded and he looked at her curiously, his face crinkling with thoughts. “Are you certain it worked?”
The Aldermaston gave him a waspish look. “Of course it did. No one has ever returned from the lair themselves. No one.” He turned back to Lia. “What is your name?”
Lia parted her lips to speak, to whisper, and the Aldermaston bent lower to hear it.
She hit him as hard as she could in the face. The blow crushed his nose and there was blood everywhere, spurting as he roared with pain and flailed backwards. Lia swung her leg around and kicked one of the Dochte Mandar in the chest, shoving him back. Her strength ebbed like sand gushing from a ripped bag, but she managed to find the floor and continued the attack.
The two Dochte Mandar in front of her snarled with fury and their eyes blazed silver-white. She was assailed by terror, their own terror, but she brushed the emotions aside. She dropped low and clubbed one in the groin with her fist and then backturned her knuckles as he crumpled in agony and struck his temple. The blast of emotions intensified like a storm, but she fought against it. The fear rolled over her like oil and slipped away, unable to sink inside her. The Aldermaston cupped his face in his hands, cowering from her, but the other Dochte Mandar barraged her with emotions, trying to smother her with them like heavy blankets. But the feelings would not stick. They slid off her harmlessly.
Her knees buckled with weariness, but she was determined to fight to the last.
“I am Lia!” she said savagely. “I am myself and no other. I passed the ordeal. I spoke the truth.”
The white eyes blazed with determination. They thrust feeling after feeling against her as they backed away, amazed at the strength of her will. Lia rushed forward and tripped one of them, yanking on his sleeve to topple him to the ground. She was about to tear after the other when she remembered Dieyre.
Too late – his arm clamped around her throat and he hoisted her backwards so that her feet left the ground. She struggled and thrashed, trying to claw him with her nails, but his leverage and stance was perfect. Her air vanished. She could not breathe. The bulging muscle in his arm flexed and there were dots spattering in front of her eyes. She pulled against his arm, trying to clear her throat for a gasp. Dizziness washed over her and then she was face down on the bed, coughing and spluttering.
“You are pathetic,” Dieyre snarled. “The lot of you. Stanch the blood, Aldermaston. Your nose is broken, but you will not die of it. And you - do something useful instead of clutching your manhood and moaning, you craven soot. Send for the kishion. Move man, before I get even more angry.”
Lia heard sounds, but she was gasping for air. It took several moments before she could see again and she whirled on the bed. Dieyre stood over her, arms folded, his eyes intense.
“They are gone,” he said, nodding towards the room. She recognized it as his bedchamber. “I will grant you that when you last left this place, I truly believed you would return a different person. I am in shock but not…surprised. You have always had a habit of thwarting my plans. Yet I can see that it is you still. I recognize the defiance that should have been purged by now. How did you manage it, Lia? You are as stubborn as an ass in the mud.”
Lia trembled with rage. She wanted to flail at him with her fists, but she knew she was too weak and tired.
“What day is it?” she asked him in a low tone.
“Twelfth Night,” he replied. “The sun is about to set.” His face twisted with irony. “So I would assume it means that the Blight is truly coming?”
Lia nodded.
“How?”
“I do not know,” she answered, her shoulders slumping. “Where is Colvin?”
The smirk that came in answer was infuriating. “He left the night before last. We gave you a proper burial, of course. You looked disgusting with all those purple bite marks when you were lifted from the lair. But the bruising is fading.” He gave her a scrutinizing look. “The venom of the snakes is not fatal, as you have no doubt realized. It feigns death. But it does not kill. It makes it easier for the Myriad Ones to take over. To settle.”
She was relieved that Colvin was gone. He thought she was dead, however. That was a problem.
“So you do not know how the Blight will come?” Dieyre pressed intently.
She shook her head. “It comes tonight. It will strike here first.”
“Do you remember the promise you made to me?” he asked. “More like a prophecy than a promise.”
