The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(61)

They had been walking for quite some time when something crashed through the undergrowth, and Argus bounded into view. Maia’s heart leaped and she knelt amidst some ferns as the boarhound rushed up to her and started licking her face. She seized him by the ruff and hugged him, dangerously close to tears.

“Is Tayt with you, Argus?” she crooned. “Is he nearby?”

The kishion snorted. “We did not abandon you, Lady Maia.”

She stroked Argus’s ears and rose, staring at him gratefully. “Thank you.” She had traveled with the kishion for days now, even slept near him in the wilderness, but she did not know if she could trust him. She doubted herself. She doubted everything except the hound’s loyalty.

As they followed the direction Argus had come from, Maia began to hear the nicker of horses. There were three, she discovered, tethered to the spindly tree branches, and Jon Tayt was grooming them. As they approached, he finished brushing one down and dropped to inspect its hooves.

He looked up at her and smiled through his pointed beard. “Ah, we all survived the night, by Cheshu. I, for one, am grateful. Thank you for interceding for us last night, my lady. My friend here says we were not in any real danger, but I was not feeling so calm at the moment. A fine kettle of fish we were in. Sorry I did not heed your hint about meeting you at the mountain. We were not willing to let you try to escape all on your own.”

“How did you escape?” Maia asked the kishion.

He looked at her and smiled darkly. “There is another kishion in the king’s camp,” he said. “He gave me a sign so that I might know him. Loosened my bonds and slipped me some weapons for the ride. I killed the escort not far from here, took the horses and a uniform, and was watching the tent when the Dochte Mandar arrived. I saw you slip out.”

“Does the king know about the kishion in his camp?” Maia asked, her eyebrows lifting.

“Of course not,” he replied blandly. “If I had been hired to kill the king, I would have had help getting into his tent.”

Maia noticed that Jon Tayt was staring at the kishion with brooding eyes. He said nothing. “How far are we from Mon?” she asked.

Jon Tayt shifted his gaze to hers. “We are near the mountains that separate us. The mountains are called the Peliyey. I believe what Collier—ach, I mean the king! He said the passes are guarded. If he is truly planning to invade Comoros, then he does not want his own kingdom sacked while he is gone.”

Maia took a deep breath, conflicted. No, her priority was to find an abbey. She lowered the cowl and swept loose her hair.

“Where is the nearest abbey?” she asked Jon Tayt.

“What?”

“The nearest abbey. Where is it?”

He looked at her, confused, his brow wrinkling. What could she say? They did not know the truth about her yet. She had to keep it secret until she could meet with an Aldermaston.

He scratched the whiskers along his neck. “There is Rivaulx to the north, but it’s on the border with Paeiz. There is Lisyeux in Dahomey, but it would be foolish for us to go there.” He squinted. “There is Cruix Abbey, though. It is in the top of the Peliyey, where three kingdoms are divided by three rivers. It is a hard climb, my lady.”

Maia remembered it now from the map she had studied in her father’s solar. Cruix Abbey.

“Aye, it is on the border of Dahomey, Paeiz, and Mon. Take me there.”

“Why?” Jon Tayt asked.

She shook her head. “I learned something in the king’s tent last night. That is all I can tell you right now. I need to visit this abbey. The sooner we leave Dahomey, the better. Get us across the mountains.”




They rode hard through the woods and gave the horses their heads when they reached the lowlands, which stretched out to the foot of the mountains. Gradually, Maia became aware of the power of the Medium all around her. It was in the blades of grass, the puffy clouds chasing across the sky. She felt the Medium in the rocks and boulders, in the flowers and seedlings. It was even in the wind. Her awareness of it had expanded, so much so it felt as if she were seeing the world as it really was for the first time. It was right in her skin, in her very pores. She could feel her blood thrumming in her veins, her heartbeat rhythmic and constant, a drum of power. She sensed the lives of birds and squirrels, of tiny insects too small to see. She could command them, she realized. They were aware of her as well, and she could sense their small minds brushing against hers, drawn to her like moths to a flame. The new powers frightened her.

She remembered again the way Walraven had summoned all those mice and rats. She could do that, she realized, and with little effort. As they rode, she sensed hawks floating overhead. As soon as she became aware of them, her mind seemed to reach out to them of its own accord, and suddenly she could see the panorama of the landscape from their perspective, including the three riders galloping in the fields below. It was jarring, watching herself from the hawk’s eyes. She saw her hair streaming behind her, the horses’ hooves churning relentlessly as they brought them toward the mountains.

The plains were lush with groves of evergreens. The Peliyey rose suddenly and sharply from the verdant valley floor, a colossal hunch of rugged stone that was wreathed in white from high mountain snows. Beyond the first battering rams was a grouping of even taller mountains, totally white with snow. The range dipped and stretched for leagues both north and south. Through the hawk’s eyes, Maia could see tiny hamlets nestled in the foothills of the giant range, but none within the range itself. There were towering waterfalls dotted around the mountains where the snow ran off and melted. It was enormous, breathtaking, and Maia’s heart filled with giddiness at the strange sensation of seeing it from both the hawk’s current perspective and its memories.