The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(70)

Richard sighed deeply, his exhaustion evident in his voice. “The role of the High Seer is crucial. If they kill her, then a convocation must be called. A new High Seer will be chosen from amongst the Aldermastons. That process takes . . . months.” He breathed out sharply. “The war will be over before then.” He gave her a grave look as they walked. “When the Naestors come, they will come quickly, and they will come with fire. We must gather all our people together, Maia. We must congregate them into a place where they can be defended.”

“No town is large enough,” Maia said. “No castle could fit everyone.”

Richard shook his head. “A castle could only defend us from battering rams and catapults. What they are attacking is more than carved stone. They are attacking our very belief, our faith in the Medium. They are attacking our minds.” He bowed his head low as they continued to walk. “I have felt the stirrings of the Medium growing,” he said softly. “Aldermaston Wyrich has felt this as well. This brooding of the Medium.”

He cocked his head at her.

“We must gather at Muirwood now,” Maia answered. The words came to her the moment before she said them, and the gush of warmth in her heart and the spark of light in her mind told her they were true.

“Yes,” Richard said, nodding. “The abbey will shield us from the Naestors. You know the legend of the Tor, do you not?”

“I know it well. An Aldermaston dropped the hill on a marauding band of Naestors that had invaded the shores of that Hundred.”

Richard looked troubled. “What is lesser known is that a village was massacred first. The Naestors plundered it, killing every man, woman, and child.”

“A Void,” Maia said darkly.

“Maia, the word means empty, unfulfilled. A garden can be rendered void. So can a contract between two merchants. It is as if the contract was never there in the first place. What I do not know, Maia, is how many lives will be lost before the Medium is stirred to defend us.”

She swallowed, feeling a bottomless pit in her stomach as she thought of her people—the poor, the powerless, the refugees from Assinica. All of them would need to keep faith in the Medium.

“I believe it will,” Maia said, putting her arm around his shoulder and giving him a small hug. “The Medium drove our ancestors away to flee the Scourge. It has brought us back together again to defy those who seek to enslave us. I agree with you . . . there will be a toll of blood to be paid. That has always been the case.” They reached the door arch leading to his tower. Several guards were posted there. “What I fear, Richard, is not that the Medium will not defend us. What I fear is what it will do to our enemies.” She shook her head uneasily. “It is not their fault that they are so bloodthirsty and vicious. This is the way they have been taught since their infancy. I would turn them to our side, if I could.”

He gave her a somber look. “You are kind and wise. I only wish more were like you.”

Maia smiled and then turned to face the guards. “See that he is kept safe,” she instructed. With her hand on his shoulder, she looked into his eyes. “I could not bear it if I lost you. May the Medium protect and guide you, Richard.”

“And you, my queen,” he responded, his eyes moist and tender.

She paused before leaving. “A question. Have you been shielding me from certain reports? There used to be stories each day about horrific acts people had done to one another. I have not heard of any recently, but I wonder if it is because you have kept the stories to yourself.”

He looked at her sadly, his eyes weighed down with sorrow. And she had her answer in his silence.

“Will you return to Muirwood tonight?” he asked her.

Maia nodded. “Have Doctor Bend summoned to examine the prince tomorrow.”

“It will be done.”

She turned to leave and watched the two guardsmen escort Richard up the tower steps. She had made arrangements for his increased protection with Captain Carew earlier in the day. But the comfort it provided was illusory. If a kishion were determined to kill him, only the Medium could save him. She had to trust in that. As she walked away, she heard the boots trailing behind her, and when she glanced back, she saw two more guardsmen were following her at a respectful distance.

She thought wearily about the events of the day, feeling exhausted, but also restless. So the mere act of touching her lips was enough to invoke the hetaera’s Leering. It was not just in the intent. She cupped her mouth, overcome with horror by the thought of what would become of Oderick after his fatal mistake. He had not been driven by logic and reason to seek an alliance with her. His very heart had been tampered and toyed with by their shared enemies. His emotions had been cruelly manipulated. What he had believed to be the Medium truly was not. She knew what it was like to be so deceived, to be so surrounded by lies it was impossible to discern the truth. She walked steadily, heading toward the corridor that would lead her to Claredon Abbey. She wanted to counsel with Aldermaston Wyrich. Perhaps one of the healers from Assinica would know a way to ease the prince’s suffering. Besides, she needed to tell him all that had happened that day. He was probably still awake, awaiting her arrival. He usually did that to offer his encouragement and counsel.

The castle was quiet and still, and the empty click of the guards’ boots and her scuffing shoes were the only sounds that pierced the night. As she turned the corner, they encountered several other patrolling guards who nodded to her as they passed.