The Blight of Muirwood

Water sloshed against the hull of the boat. The night sounds churned to life around them, the croak of bullfrogs and the cry of owls, replacing the buzz of mosquitoes and the hiss of cicadas.

Ellowyn’s voice was very small. “In the tomes, what happened to those who gave the warnings? What became of them?”

Colvin turned away, looking deep into the night. He said nothing.

“Please tell me,” she said.

Colvin glanced back at her, pityingly. He shook his head.

“Are they often killed?” Ellowyn asked in a whisper, shrinking. “Like my grandfather?”

He nodded slowly.

She was silent for a while. “It must be important then. If it required someone to give their life.” She breathed heavily. “I think…I could do it.”

Tears stung Lia’s eyes again. She touched Ellowyn’s hands and squeezed them. The other girl clung to Lia, as if she were the only solid thing in her life.

“I think I could do it,” she repeated softly. “If you were there, Colvin.”

Pen-Ilyn rowed against the sluggish water. The darkness was a massive wall in front of them. He guided the boat by sound, going slowly enough to maneuver. Sometimes mud grabbed at the bottom, sometimes tributaries tried to lead them on false paths. The orb would point the way clearly.

Around midnight, the way ahead grew brighter, as if an early dawn was greeting them. But it was not the color of dawn, it was the color of fire.

“What is it?” Pen-Ilyn mumbled, resting his weary arms for a moment, letting the boat drift towards the light.

Lia heard the rush of more water. It was the Belgeneck, the main waterway that would take them to Muirwood. But on the opposite shore, there were torches lining the bank, spread like a curtain across the river as far as could be seen in both directions. Close enough that there was no way to cross without being exposed by the light.

As they approached, the light revealed even more. A fleet of small fishing boats, each loaded with soldiers, rowing down the Belgeneck towards Muirwood. The river was choked with vessels, some large, some small.

“If we enter the river, we will be seen!” Pen-Ilyn whispered harshly. “We must turn back!”

But Lia already knew that there would be no safety that way either. Certainly Dieyre would have sent boats after them, knowing the river ahead was being used to transport soldiers silently through the wetlands.

She looked at Colvin and Ellowyn, saw their faces now in the faint glimmer of torch-light. She had to get them to Dahomey. It was up to her to get them through the Bearden Muir safely. But against an army? Against so many enemies?

Goosebumps went across her arms and she realized she was cold.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE:

Bleeding River

Pen-Ilyn and Colvin hauled the boat out of the river and dragged it up the muddy embankment. Lia came off next and began searching the woods for signs of soldiers. Ellowyn stumbled as she came off, but Colvin caught her before she fell and lifted her away from the mud. Then with heaving muscles, he and Pen-Ilyn hauled the boat into the brush to hide it. The Belgeneck could be seen through the screen of trees ahead, the lights flickering everytime a vessel passed in front of the torches. How many had they seen already, fifty? More?

Lia went back to the boat and found Colvin tugging on his padded shirt and leather jerkin. Pen-Ilyn had stored the clothes with his gear.

Ellowyn shivered with cold, clutching herself, her eyes gazing at the river ahead. “What will we do?” she whispered to Lia.

Pen-Ilyn hocked and spat. “Are you sure this will work?”

Lia was tired and weary. She was not sure of anything. “If I were you,” she said, “I would hide apart from the boat and get some sleep. The army will have passed by dawn and you should be able to row back up the river to the sea. If they are searching for us, they will find your boat easily. Even if I wanted to hide the trail you just gouged into the mud, and I do not, it would not be hard to find. They will look for our bootprints and see that ours go one way and yours another. I doubt they will follow you. They want us. It is the best we can do for you, Pen-Ilyn.”

“And where will you go?” he asked, chaffing his arms and rummaging in his belongings for something to eat.

Lia scowled. “If I told you, you would have information they would want. Best if you know nothing more. Goodbye.”

He looked nettled but said nothing, but he murmured as he gathered his things and started away. “Broke my nose and abandoned me in the middle of the accursed swamp. We will probably all be eaten by snakes before dawn. Or drowned in a bog. Lovely.”