The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(96)

Each morning they examined themselves for ticks, which were plentiful, and wolf spiders. Maia found that the creatures left her alone for the most part. There were never any bites beneath her chaen, so she did not need the kishion’s help to remove them. There were also no whispers this time. No murmurings or premonitions of dread. Without the kystrel, the woods felt less haunted and foreboding. She wondered if the deadness in her heart did not leave the Myriad Ones enough emotions to feed on, or if something else was keeping them at bay.

The kishion’s spirits rose the farther they went. He did not speak to her often, and she was mostly silent with him. He had warned her not to escape, but she did not feel that fleeing was the right thing to do. Strangely, as they walked, she began to feel the subtle guidance of the Medium compelling her to follow him. It was almost as if there were a trail of lampposts leading off into the woods, a trail that beckoned her onward much as the waymarkers did. More than once, she felt a smokeshape traveling with them—leading her. At first she worried it was a Myriad One, but it did not feel malign. In fact, it reminded her of . . . Argus.

She did not want to be there. It had not been her decision to come to Dahomey. But as she followed the trail into the woods, it started to feel . . . right. Of course, she still carried the weight of her horrible grief. It was so vast and so omnipresent she had even given it a name. She called it the Great Sadness, and it was as vast as a lake, constantly rippling at her side as she walked. If she thought on it too much, it would overwhelm her with bitterness and tears. She could not will the Great Sadness away, so instead she became acquainted with it. She thought on it, seeking to learn something of and from it. It taught her, silently, of the pain others had felt upon losing loved ones and spouses. Quotes from the tomes she had studied ran through her mind over and over again. One from Ovidius particularly resounded with her: You can learn from anyone—even your enemy.

The kishion had packed sufficient provisions and equipment, so this journey was slightly more comfortable than the last. Her heart was so broken and torn that she could not fill it with anything, not even hate or anger.

On a morning that had begun like any other since they started their voyage, she pushed a spiderweb away from her face and caught a little flicker of sunlight through the dense trees overhead. She was dirty and footsore, but the little stabs of light in her eyes felt good. It had been several days since their departure from Bridgestow. She worried about the invasion of her realm. What were her leaders doing in her absence? What did they think had become of her? She remembered Suzenne and Richard Syon with warmth and affection. She worried about her grandmother and wondered what was happening to her. She had a feeling that Sabine was also suffering. Perhaps her grandmother was merely on a different shore of the Great Sadness.

“I recognize this place,” the kishion said, coming to a halt.

It was growing colder, and the winks of sunlight had disappeared overhead, replaced by a gray wall of mist that began to descend from the treetops.

A prickle of apprehension shot through Maia. She remembered this place too. The field of bones with a Leering in the heap. The kishion scowled and glanced through the woods.

“We should skirt around it,” he said warily.

“No,” Maia replied, sensing another Leering in the area, one she had not noticed before. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him after her.

The mist grew thicker as they walked. The kishion looked around nervously, and she noticed he had unsheathed one of his knives. Maia felt no fear. Tendrils of wreathing fog swirled amidst the upper branches, descending lower, but there was no impulse to flinch away.

There.

Maia sensed the Leering at the perimeter of the enclosure. Then another one. Then a third. They were all summoning the mist. Through her Gift of Invocation, she realized that the Leerings were activated by the arrival of trespassers. In turn, the cover of the mist allowed the Fear Liath to emerge from its lair. Its only vulnerability was sunlight.

Maia silenced the Leerings with her mind, and their power immediately yielded to her request. The mist dispersed, and golden rays of sunlight showered down, streaming in slanting angles through the trees. The kishion stared in amazement.

“You did that?” he asked in confusion.

She nodded and then stared at the field of the dead. This was the final battleground of the Scourge. This was the place where thousands had been slaughtered. She stared at the moldering bones and armor, the rusted swords and spearheads. Sunlight glimmered on the pitted, rusty decay. The air had a metallic smell to it. She stared at the Leering in the center, the waymarker that had guided her to the lost abbey. But she already knew where it was. The trail was invisible, but it was clear in her mind, as if a blacksmith had forged a metal railing in the woods, leading the way.

The Fear Liath would not trouble them this time.

Maia offered a subtle thought, thanking the Medium for its assistance.

In reply, she felt a gentle murmur . . . so small and slight it was barely noticeable. The Medium was with her. She wanted to demand answers of it. She wanted to accuse and rage against it. She had been its loyal servant ever since her escape from Naess. It had rewarded her loyalty with the deaths of her parents, her true love. Feeling the Medium retreat from her, she crushed the negative thoughts with force of will.

No, she would have to continue to be patient. She would follow the trail through the woods. She would go to the lost abbey.