A shriek of pain sounded in the night, and moments later, Argus padded up next to them, panting.
“One less hunter for us to face,” Jon Tayt said with a grim smile in his voice. “They probably have more than one, bad luck. Always best to have two of something if you can afford it. Argus here can take down a bear. You think I am joking. You will see if we meet one.”
They reached the banks of the small brook, and Jon Tayt guided her to some round stones protruding from the waters and ushered her across. The trees swayed as the whipping wind picked up and began to howl, blowing icy tendrils at them. In a moment, the kishion leaped across the small brook and joined them. “Two more were watching the direction we fled, so I dispatched them as well.”
The hunter snorted. “There are many trails off this mountain. If we take that one,” he said, pointing, “we will be trapped along the lake. I know of a cave farther down the mountain where we can find shelter, and the village of Roc-Adamour is at the base of the mountain. It is the crossroads in this Hundred. It will be difficult for them to track us if we go there first.”
“How far?” the kishion asked, searching the trees behind them for signs of pursuers.
“Before next sunset if we hurry. There are some more supplies I would like to obtain if we are going to travel the mountain ways. There is an inn there called the—”
Lightning lit up the night sky with a brilliant fork of energy, blinding them all.
“Not a cloud in the sky, by Cheshu,” Jon Tayt said with surprise, squinting. He stared up at the milky swarm of stars as another jagged line split across the mountain valley. The wind began to rush against them, increasing in pressure and ferocity.
The kystrel burned against Maia’s skin, and she realized someone had summoned the storm with the power of the Medium. Coldness shot deep into her bones. Lightning struck a tree behind them, blasting it into fire. Argus howled and began barking.
“Hush!” Jon Tayt said, cuffing the dog. Flames leaped up the bark of the pine and the branches were soon blazing. The wind kicked up the flames even higher, causing the ashes to spread and fan out, igniting other trees in the valley.
“Lady Marciana!” shouted a powerful voice in the darkness. She recognized it, having heard it inside her mind at the Leering she had used to summon water. “Surrender to me now, or I will burn this village. I have chased you long enough, and my patience is at an end. You cannot leave this mountain, or all these people will die.”
It was Corriveaux.
The wind was so strong she had to clutch her borrowed cloak around her throat to prevent it from flying back into the brook. She felt mewling hisses all around her, sensed invisible shapes. Anger and fear battled within her.
Another explosion of light came, and yellow tongues of fire began to devour another tree.
“I grow impatient!” Corriveaux shouted into the night.
Maia looked into the kishion’s eyes. He shook his head subtly no. Anguish filled her heart. How could she abandon the poor villagers? They had done nothing to deserve such a fate. Indeed, they had done naught but show her kindness. She had no doubt that Corriveaux’s threat was sincere, and her heart wrenched. Could she really spare her own life at the expense of theirs?
She turned back to the village, intending to fight off the Dochte Mandar who threatened them.
“I think no,” Jon Tayt said, gripping her arm to stop her. “Listen to the man’s voice. He was already going to murder them. We must flee down the mountain, my lady.”
“I can stop him,” she said, trying to control her fear. The force of the Medium was building a charge in the air over her.
She turned to face the blazing trees and summoned the power of the kystrel. Clenching her teeth, she unleashed her emotions and flooded the medallion with all of the darkest parts of herself—her rage, humiliation, fear, and despair.
The wind began to shift immediately, drawn to her call, her summons.
“No, Lady Maia!” Jon Tayt warned. “You will draw him down on us!”
She felt the power building inside of her, rising like a tide. Her confidence increased, and she experienced that tickling giddiness that always made her want to laugh. “Stand away from me,” she said fiercely.
The winds collided. Her leg muscles began to tremble under the mental weight of the magic she wielded. Another shaft of lightning struck near her, shattering a boulder into blackened fragments. The light did not blind her this time. She retaliated, sending a crackle of energy toward her enemy. With the kystrel burning around her neck, she could sense his presence, could see that he was very near, perched on a solitary rock by the shore of the lake. His eyes glowed silver, as did hers.