The Scourge of Muirwood
Page 87
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Lia stared at the flames, mesmerized by their ferocity. She breathed deeply, knowing that she would not be harmed. But those around her did not share her Gift. She glanced from face to face, her heart panging with sadness. As she looked at each one, she saw that they had been warned, at one time or another, to flee. They were stubborn, refusing to heed the warning that had been given to them. In her mind’s eye, she saw them clinging to that stubbornness, not to their belief in the Medium. Now it was too late. She saw a boy and craned her neck, but it was not the boy Jouvent. The mother near him was not Huette from Vezins. She had warned them both to go to the Holk. She hoped they had listened to her. One by one, face by face, she looked at them, feeling dread and sadness at what would happen to them. The warning had been given. Now it was too late.
Lia sighed deeply, preparing to be ushered into the flames. Deep inside, she knew her work was not finished. There was something remaining for her to do.
Lia felt someone’s eyes on her. She looked up and noticed the man near her. His face was familiar – she had seen him on the Holk, one of the crew. His gray eyes were staring intently at her face. Her mind rushed furiously for a moment, and then she remembered his name. Malcolm. His hands were bound behind his back as well.
Slowly, deliberately, he nodded to her.
The Aldermaston’s voice rose in a shriek. “The moment has come! The stars are in alignment to our cause. The silver moon smiles upon us. The sun has set in the ebony sky, hiding his face in shame. Throw them into the Gargouelle! May all who defy us be burned with fire.”
* * *
“We were married this evening at dusk, bound to each other by irrevocare sigil by the Aldermaston. Bound to each other forever. He is mine. At long last, he is mine. Colvin says the last loyal men to my uncle and myself will gather and fight in the Demont name. We ride on the morrow for Bosworth town to rally them. The orb will guide us there as it has guided us here. The guest quarters are beautifully furnished, though not as richly as Dochte. I must douse the lamps before he returns. He cannot see my shoulder. I have commanded the Leerings to burn when we leave. ”
- Ellowyn Demont at Billerbeck Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE:
The Blight Leering
Screams filled the night sky in a terrible melody. It was an unearthly sound, of fear and terror and pleading all mixing together into an agonizing chorus as, by two’s and three’s, the prisoners were clutched, dragged, and then shoved into the flaming maw of the Leering furnace. Lia stared at the bright flames, made even brighter somehow as the night deepened. She watched children, mothers, fathers, the aged – all corralled by the Dochte Mandar and thrust to their deaths. Some tried to recant, swearing they would accept the water rite, but there was no compassion. One after another were sent to the flames, the crowd of prisoners thinning moment after moment. The silver eyes of the Dochte Mandar gleamed, their power driving away any feeling of resistance or anger. Lia’s heart panged seeing the destruction and realized that on many nights to come, such a scene would be repeated.
The Aldermaston of Dochte strode towards her, his face flushed and gleaming with sweat. His look was exultant. “Behold your Blight,” he sneered at her. “Where is your power now, child? Where is your faith? It is nothing but ashes.” The look he gave her was savage and full of delight. “Send her next.”
Lia rose without being yanked to her feet as the others. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, that Malcolm rose just a shadow behind her. She grit her teeth, trying to summon the power of the Medium. She remembered the fire that consumed Almaguer’s men in the Bearden Muir. More than anything, she wanted to unleash it on the Aldermaston and those who served him. But it did not heed her plea. It was a selfish desire, she realized. Forcing down her hatred, she marched towards the Leering.
“Make sure she goes in,” the Aldermaston warned.
Malcolm strode next to her, his wrists in chains as well. The grass crumpled under her feet. Strange that her thoughts strayed to the feel of the grass. She felt no fear. The air was acrid, the smell sending a revolting lurch into her stomach. Soon the roar of the fires began to drown the shrieks of fear coming from those few remaining. Glancing down and to the side, she saw Malcolm walking step in step with her, shuffling forward towards the doom of the furnace.
“Stay with me,” she whispered to him. “I will try and save you.”
“Aye,” he replied gruffly, closing the gap.
The light from the furnace was blindingly bright. Lia strode forward, ignoring the wave of heat and tongues of whipping flames that sought her. She clenched her teeth, sinking inside herself, dropping into the calm memories of Muirwood. Even in death’s maw, she felt it – the peace and reassurance that she had grown up experiencing. Her love and admiration for the Aldermaston throbbed in her heart. She wondered where he was at that moment and if he was aware of her somehow. She had the deep impression that he knew much that he had not told her.
Lia sighed deeply, preparing to be ushered into the flames. Deep inside, she knew her work was not finished. There was something remaining for her to do.
Lia felt someone’s eyes on her. She looked up and noticed the man near her. His face was familiar – she had seen him on the Holk, one of the crew. His gray eyes were staring intently at her face. Her mind rushed furiously for a moment, and then she remembered his name. Malcolm. His hands were bound behind his back as well.
Slowly, deliberately, he nodded to her.
The Aldermaston’s voice rose in a shriek. “The moment has come! The stars are in alignment to our cause. The silver moon smiles upon us. The sun has set in the ebony sky, hiding his face in shame. Throw them into the Gargouelle! May all who defy us be burned with fire.”
* * *
“We were married this evening at dusk, bound to each other by irrevocare sigil by the Aldermaston. Bound to each other forever. He is mine. At long last, he is mine. Colvin says the last loyal men to my uncle and myself will gather and fight in the Demont name. We ride on the morrow for Bosworth town to rally them. The orb will guide us there as it has guided us here. The guest quarters are beautifully furnished, though not as richly as Dochte. I must douse the lamps before he returns. He cannot see my shoulder. I have commanded the Leerings to burn when we leave. ”
- Ellowyn Demont at Billerbeck Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE:
The Blight Leering
Screams filled the night sky in a terrible melody. It was an unearthly sound, of fear and terror and pleading all mixing together into an agonizing chorus as, by two’s and three’s, the prisoners were clutched, dragged, and then shoved into the flaming maw of the Leering furnace. Lia stared at the bright flames, made even brighter somehow as the night deepened. She watched children, mothers, fathers, the aged – all corralled by the Dochte Mandar and thrust to their deaths. Some tried to recant, swearing they would accept the water rite, but there was no compassion. One after another were sent to the flames, the crowd of prisoners thinning moment after moment. The silver eyes of the Dochte Mandar gleamed, their power driving away any feeling of resistance or anger. Lia’s heart panged seeing the destruction and realized that on many nights to come, such a scene would be repeated.
The Aldermaston of Dochte strode towards her, his face flushed and gleaming with sweat. His look was exultant. “Behold your Blight,” he sneered at her. “Where is your power now, child? Where is your faith? It is nothing but ashes.” The look he gave her was savage and full of delight. “Send her next.”
Lia rose without being yanked to her feet as the others. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, that Malcolm rose just a shadow behind her. She grit her teeth, trying to summon the power of the Medium. She remembered the fire that consumed Almaguer’s men in the Bearden Muir. More than anything, she wanted to unleash it on the Aldermaston and those who served him. But it did not heed her plea. It was a selfish desire, she realized. Forcing down her hatred, she marched towards the Leering.
“Make sure she goes in,” the Aldermaston warned.
Malcolm strode next to her, his wrists in chains as well. The grass crumpled under her feet. Strange that her thoughts strayed to the feel of the grass. She felt no fear. The air was acrid, the smell sending a revolting lurch into her stomach. Soon the roar of the fires began to drown the shrieks of fear coming from those few remaining. Glancing down and to the side, she saw Malcolm walking step in step with her, shuffling forward towards the doom of the furnace.
“Stay with me,” she whispered to him. “I will try and save you.”
“Aye,” he replied gruffly, closing the gap.
The light from the furnace was blindingly bright. Lia strode forward, ignoring the wave of heat and tongues of whipping flames that sought her. She clenched her teeth, sinking inside herself, dropping into the calm memories of Muirwood. Even in death’s maw, she felt it – the peace and reassurance that she had grown up experiencing. Her love and admiration for the Aldermaston throbbed in her heart. She wondered where he was at that moment and if he was aware of her somehow. She had the deep impression that he knew much that he had not told her.
