The Blight of Muirwood

Lia was not, so she released her cloak and covered the other girl’s shoulders with it. She gave Lia a grateful look and hugged herself.

The mist descended over the heights of the trees, weaving through the woods in every direction, concealing even the light from the torches behind them in the gloom. The woods were thick and oppressive. They still had not reached the summit yet. It would be a while before that happened still.

“How far behind are they?” Colvin wondered.

“I have tried to throw them off our trail, but nothing has worked so far. They are moving faster than we are, but are closing the distance more slowly. My tricks are giving us more time, but not much. It will be easier on the way down. We may reach the valley floor by dawn and then cross the valley by mid-day if we do not stop.”

“I need to rest,” Ellowyn said. “I can scarcely breathe.”

From behind them, the Fear Liath roared. The trio stopped at the sound. It was the same as before and it struck terror inside them. Ellowyn’s eyes were as wide as dishes and she quailed with fear. “What was that!”

Colvin stared down the mountain. “It is behind us?” he said in disbelief.

Lia understood. It was not hunting them at all. “Martin,” she whispered.

Ellowyn grabbed Colvin and buried her face against his tunic. “What is it?” she said, her voice quavering.

“A grey-rank,” he answered. “It cannot hurt us.”

Lia swallowed, her throat tightening. “But it will hurt them.”

“Keep walking,” Colvin ordered, pulling Ellowyn with him. Lia froze. “What can we do?” he demanded. “If we help them, will they help us? If the Aldermaston told them we were bound for Dahomey ultimately, why would they have followed us so swiftly if not to stop us? If they are wise, they will go back down the mountain to the safety of their Abbey. They cannot pass.”

Lia struggled with her feelings. They were her countrymen. She did not want anything to happen to them. Even Martin, who had betrayed her. She could not explain her feelings. They surged in her so strongly, she hestitated, not knowing what to do.

“Come, Lia,” Colvin said, pressing forward in a hard walk. “There is nothing you can do.”

They heard the screams.

Lia choked with the sound. The cry of pain, warning. Panic. Another roar sounded, blasting from the slope further down. A trumpet of rage and anger. More screams. Horror-filled screams. Tears burst from Lia’s eyes.

Colvin grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He squeezed her as the sounds of the night intensified, as a cry of agony was suddenly ripped short. He buried her head against his chest, covering her ears from the sound – a sound of slaughter. A sound that would haunt her the rest of her life.

He squeezed her hard and she clutched at him, weeping. His expression showed his disgust with what they had heard. The Fear Liath was master of the mountain. Silence followed. A croon of delight sounded from the stillness. It was long and loud and throbbed with triumph.

“Come,” Colvin whispered in her ear. “There is nothing we could have done. Those hunters chose to follow us. They chose to pursue. It sickens me what happened to them. Come, we must get off the mountain.”

There was no use hiding the trail now. Onward they walked, pressing up the steep slope of the mountain. Tears fell down Lia’s cheeks. She looked back, searching for the glow of a torch. Even a single torch. The fog had lifted, revealing a snowy moon once again. But there were no pinpricks of light following. Nothing but blackness behind them and the silhouettes of massive trees all around. How old were the trees, she wondered. How many deaths had they silently witnessed over the long years atop the mountain? A place where no woodcutter dared harvest. A place where the things of the wild reigned as kings.

First Jon Hunter.

Now Martin.

She wished there was a way to leave a Leering there, as she had with Jon. But she knew nothing about it, nor did she trust their safety where the Fear Liath made its home. She wept as they walked through the treacherous woods.

* * *

They straggled into the hamlet of Enarth just after mid-day. Ellowyn’s face was smudged with dirt and tear-tracks. She wobbled on her feet, barely able to keep upright through her exhaustion. Her hair was matted with twigs, her fine gown in tatters at the hem. Lia’s feet were throbbing, her legs sore but she did not stop. Colvin seemed unaffected, his jaw firm with determination. He did not speak as they entered the hamlet. Lia peeked at the orb which pointed the way to Pen-Ilyn and his boat. He was pacing back and forth by the small dock, rubbing his hands together. A stack of goods were already loaded and he turned on his heel and started with surprise when they appeared.