The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(77)

As night fell, she stayed awake, watching the pale moon rising. Although she still feared sleep, she knew she was safer when she was far from some bastion of civilization. She wondered what sort of people the Hautlanders were and when they would learn about the burning of Cruix Abbey. Otherwise she might be recognized by description. If she moved quickly enough, she hoped she could make it to the port city and slip away without being discovered.

Perhaps it was too much to hope for.

Maia heard something.

She lowered her cowl and heard grunts and heavy breathing. A prickle of fear filled her heart. Was some bear or wolf pack hunting her scent? It was coming fast, snuffling through the brush.

She grabbed the strap of her rucksack and was preparing to flee when she heard a distinctive howl and bark. Then Argus barreled into her makeshift camp, licking her face with wild joy.

“You found me,” she said, feeling guilt and pleasure simultaneously. “You found me, Argus.” She hugged him fiercely, burying her face into his fur. She heard the clomping of boots following the boarhound.





I have learned, mostly through painful experience, never to be dismissive of a friend’s accusation, even if it seems unreasonable. More often than not, it is well-meant, the truth, and something I have needed to hear but did not want to. It is an easy thing to be offended. It is difficult to learn something new about ourselves.


—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX




Hunted

Jon Tayt sat in the shadows of the tree, but his eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he stroked Argus’s flanks. He had confirmed what she already knew—there were enemies on their trail. Corriveaux had discovered she was not with the king and had crossed into Mon with a retinue of Dochte Mandar, arriving at Cruix Abbey the morning after it burned.

Maia stared at the sky, sickened by the knowledge of what she had done.

“Did they harm the kishion?” she asked him worriedly.

He shook his head. “The healer dressed the wound, but he was burning with fever when I left. I hid him in the mountains.”

“You must go there yourself, Jon Tayt,” she implored. “Go and guide travelers through the peaks again. It is not safe to be near me.” She sighed and tugged her cloak more tightly about her shoulders. “I could not bear it if you or Argus were harmed because of me.”

He snorted. “I fear not the Dochte Mandar,” he said in a low voice. “They have hunters to be sure, but I am better. We can slip away if we are wary and quick.”

“No,” Maia said, a little too forcefully. She wrestled with her emotions. “It is not safe to be near me. There is good reason the Dochte Mandar hunt me. I am a danger to everyone. Even you.”

She heard him scratch the whiskers at his neck. “You felled the abbey.”

“Yes,” Maia confessed.

“Why? Did they threaten you?”

“No, they were innocent.” She felt her throat catch and coughed to clear it.

“Then why, Lady Maia? Why did you do it?”

She stared miserably into her lap. “I was not in control of myself. At night, I have strange visions of the past. They are so vivid and real. When I sleep, I lose control of myself and . . . am taken over by another force. It is like a sickness. I thought the Aldermaston could cure me. Instead, I harmed him.”

Jon Tayt sniffed, but he did not look accusing. “Best to keep you away from abbeys then, my lady.”

She looked up at him. “I urge you to abandon me. I am hunted by the Dochte Mandar. Now I will be hunted by the Aldermastons. The Naestors, whom I seek, will slay me when they find out what and who I am. I cannot—will not—ask anything further of you.”

“You’ve said your piece. Let me say mine.” He was silent a moment, the only sounds the rustling of the wind through the trees and Argus’s panting. “It gives me some comfort that you did not destroy the abbey deliberately. I have suspected for some time that you suffer from a fever or delirium at night. We have tried to keep watch over you—the kishion and I. The two of us had a truce, so to speak. But you should have told me, Lady Maia. I have an herb, valerianum, that can cause drowsiness and deep slumber when mixed with a tea. It is worth trying, at any rate. Or I can bind and gag you at night . . . truss you up like a slaughter-bound boar and tie you to a tree. If you had told me, I could have helped ere it came to this.” He grunted. “You were foolish and you were proud. But you are not guilty. I have seen your heart, and you are fair and just, even to those who do not deserve it. You stopped Feint Collier from hanging us. You have always tried to save innocents, even at great cost to yourself. So I will say this one thing and then we are done, by Cheshu.” He scooted forward a bit, staring her full in the face, his eyes boring into hers with an almost feverish intensity. “You cannot dismiss me. I am not your servant to be banished. I am your friend. If Argus trusts you, and he nary trusts anyone but me, then you are fit companionship. A friend does not abandon a friend during troubled times. That is when the friendship is needed most.”

Maia’s eyes pricked with tears. Something had come loose inside of her during Jon Tayt’s speech. She was grateful beyond words and felt a soothing balm of relief as tears slipped from her moist lashes.

“I do not deserve your friendship,” she said, swallowing her tears. “But thank you.”