The Blight of Muirwood

Colvin stood rooted in place for a moment, rucksack dangling from his shoulder. Then he let it fall with a thump and he marched across the room and pulled Lia into a fierce hug. Lia swallowed with pain and pleasure, ignoring the little jolts of agony that came and hugged him back, sorrowing that she was losing him again. She smelled his hair, his leather jerkin, the scent of his skin – inhaled him all in one final memory, squeezing him until her hand throbbed and her side ached and her leg moaned with the motion.

“How I love you,” she whispered to him, feeling him tense at the words. “Please come back to me. Please take care of yourself. Every day you will be in my thoughts and I will be pleading for your safety. The Medium will protect you both. I have faith in that.”

She felt his sigh, his body tremble. Then pulling away slightly, he looked at her with inexpressible pain and longing in his eyes. It was the look of a man being tortured. “This is a hard thing,” he whispered. “Leaving you like this. I can hardly bear it. Will you help me? Will you…Gift me, Lia?”

A smile creased her mouth. “If you want me to.”

He knelt at the edge of the bed and bowed his head so she could reach it. She made the maston sign while she touched his hair. What could she say? It was her first time pronouncing one herself. What would the Medium require of him? Her thoughts were a jumble, all confused. She knew what she wanted to say, but she knew it had to come from the Medium and not her. “Colvin Price,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I gift you with…I gift you with…” She paused, searching through her contorting feelings for the right words. Then she felt it – a spark of warmth and assurance. An insight into his needs. “I gift you with wisdom and knowledge. That you may discern through the illusions and see things as they really are. As they really must be. By Idumea’s hand, make it so.”

The Medium was a warm blanket that fell around their shoulders. It was comforting and peaceful. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the sobs that would come later. He raised his head and stared in her eyes. His iron will had asserted itself again. He rose slowly from the bed and stared down at her. “I will come back to you. That is my promise. I will not break it this time.”

She smiled at him, feeling the tears burn in her eyes as she watched him leave again.

* * *

“While the Medium reveals itself in many forms and can come as a dramatic manifestation, it usually does not. Some mastons think they need to experience the full, raw power of the Medium before they are convinced of its possibilities. If we have unrealistic notions of how, when, or where the Medium reveals itself, we risk missing the tokens which come as quiet, reassuring feelings and thoughts while we are doing something else. These simple manifestations of the Medium can be equally convincing and powerful as the dramatic ones. Over time we learn how this works. It is something each maston learns for himself.”

- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey

* * *

CHAPTER FORTY SIX:

Scarseth’s Voice

The Aldermaston revived after three days. Word traveled through Muirwood as fast the birds in springtime. Pasqua rallied the kitchen to begin its work of feeding him and Lia was secretly relieved for the news. The kitchen began to hum and thrive, with Sowe and Bryn bending over balls of dough or brushing butter around the edge of a crust. Lia watched with jealousy, wishing she was active again. Each day was less painful than the one before it, though her heart was heavy. Word had come that Colvin and Ellowyn were bound on a ship for Dahomey out of Bridgestow. Garen Demont was still a guest at the Abbey and he treated his stay there as such, asking for permission from Prestwich instead of giving orders as if it were his own earldom. He deferred to the Abbey’s authority in all things.

“Sowe, can you slice the apples? He likes it in chunks. Bryn, up the ladder with you. Fetch a pumpkin. Go on, girl. Make haste! I am sure the Aldermaston is very hungry. I would like to have something ready quickly. Oh, that I had a spare shank to roast. Maybe I should send for the butcher.”

The kitchen door opened, letting in the blinding sunlight. Pasqua turned to bark in annoyance and stopped when she recognized the Aldermaston. Prestwich was there, gripping the old man’s arm to help keep him up.

“Aldermaston, we will bring the food to you,” Pasqua said, looking rattled at seeing him to soon. “We are working as fast as we can. Sowe, Sowe..!”

“I am not hungry,” the Aldermaston said, his voice choked and low. He coughed into his fist, his whole body wracked with spasms. Prestwich clutched him to keep him on his feet, whispering soothingly to him. “Please…I must speak with Lia. If you would all leave us for a moment. I must consult with her.”