The Blight of Muirwood

There was one giant where the exposed roots were so deep, it was like a cave. Using the orb for light, she explored the depth and discovered that it was not the den of any animal. The burnt insides of the tree was probably not a place animals cared to dwell, but it was tall enough to stand in until the very end.

“It will be twilight soon,” Lia said, rubbing her hand against the charcoal interior. “If we go down the mountain at night, we will need the orb for light. We will probably be seen by anyone lower down. To be honest, I am tired. We covered a lot of ground today, most of it uphill.” The little den was about as comfortable a shelter as she could have hoped for.

“I am tired as well.” he said, unslinging the rucksack and setting it down. He stared at the tangle of exposed roots, his expression curious. “This is truly an ancient land. I have never seen the like and probably never will again.” He looked at her. “I have never slept inside a dead tree before. I suppose they would make good shelter.”

Lia agreed and withdew the orb and summoned its power again. Sometimes lettering appeared when it was trying to warn her. None appeared now. The orb had not changed directions for a while. “Weather in the mountains can be treacherous. Even though it is summer, it can snow or rain up in the highlands. At least we have this as shelter if that happens.”

Colvin agreed and they set about making a small camp in the hollow of the roots. They did not want to risk a fire, but just in case the temperature fell severely during the night, it would be smart to have dry wood ready and nearby. With the fallen segments, it was easy to gather enough kindling and logs, so they were gathered in before the darkness swallowed them. Sitting in the pit of the tree, they shared their meal. The wind was cool, but the giant tree carcass still clinged to the sun’s warmth.

“They might be riding around the mountain,” Lia guessed, acutely aware of how quiet Colvin was. “I do not know how wide this range is, but if they are traveling around it, we may catch them tomorrow. I wonder where they are camping tonight. Or if they stopped for shelter at an inn.”

Colvin said nothing and she wondered if he was asleep. It was strange being in Pry-Ree, even stranger being with him. The land was more wild and untamed than she expected. Not as savage as the Bearden Muir, but harsh and alien. There were plants she did not recognize and the air had a different smell to it, a musk from the redwoods that was different from the oaks she was used to. She settled on top of her blanket and pulled her cloak over her shoulders, sitting up and leaning back against the ridged inside of the trunk, not sure how she should feel about her homeland. It was not familiar but it was part of her still. She was a daughter of the land, even though she had no memories of it. She glanced down at the shadow of Colvin’s body and decided she would take the first watch while he slept. The wind rustled the air and the towering limbs of the giant trees creaked as they swayed.

“Lia?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Yes?”

Another silence.

“There is something I must tell you. A confession I must make.”

* * *

“We often want one thing and pray for another, not telling the truth even to ourselves.”

- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX:

Fallen Giants

“What is it?” Lia asked, turning around to face him. She could not see his face, it was so dark.

“Light the orb please.”

She withdrew it from her pouch and it shone, enclosing them both in a sheath of light. She set it on the ground in front of her. The air was musty with charcoal, getting colder with each moment. Her breath came out as a fog as she breathed. She moved closer to him, studying his serious face. His expression was restless and eager to say something, but his eyes were dark, reflecting one of his somber moods. He struggled with the words, looking down at the orb and then at her. She noticed a slight tremble in his hands.

“I was laying here,” he began, “trying to escape my thoughts in the dark. But I cannot escape them. Not any more. I have been in misery since we spoke in the orchard when it was raining. Up to that moment, I had persuaded myself that you were fond of that boy Duerden, that only my feelings were at risk. I was determined to master them. To control them.” He looked down at his hands and then up at her. “For the life of me, I cannot. I have wrestled against them. I have fought them. I have tried to burn them out with fury. To scald them out with regrets. Every verse in every tome I have ever read is flat and meaningless against what I am feeling. Ovidius comes the nearest, but his words only torture me. They do not comfort. I have lied to myself, and I have lied to you. I cannot do that any longer. I must tell you the truth.”