“Over here, Cap’n! Another dinghy!”
Verrick and Hsop were obviously good companions. They dragged the Blessing’s dinghy up near the trees and lashed it to a tall plumed trunk. The captain and the kishion went to explore the battered dinghy left near the rocks to one side of the grotto. The other two soldiers—she thought a moment for their names before remembering them, Adler and Kent—had started off into the trees, probably looking for a place to set up camp.
Maia clamped her hand over the kystrel, feeling its warmth and shape beneath her bodice. The medallion was small enough for her to cup it in her hand yet still feel the bite of its edges.
A whisper from the Medium ran through her.
You will all die in this place. This is the place where death was born.
*
Maia tried to writhe free of the nightmare. It felt like drowning, except she knew she was on land. She fought against the smothering sleepiness, trying to claw herself awake. The kystrel flared to life, responding to the fear in her throat. Pinpricks of pain in her hands and on her face pierced the haze of fatigue, and she forced her eyelids to open. Spiders covered her cloak. They were everywhere. The soldier who lay closest to her had one feasting on his chin near his open mouth. They were enormous, with bulging sacks, nearly the size of a minted coin. Her hands were red and oozing with bites and she felt welts on her face as well. She shuddered and wanted to scream, but the coldness inside her chest made her pant and gasp instead. Everywhere she looked, the soldiers were still. They were all still asleep—or were they dead?
Maia grasped her hand to her heart, feeling the kystrel grow hot enough to blister. She unleashed the magic like a silent wind and sent the spiders fleeing.
One of the soldiers awoke with a twitch of pain and let out a frantic howl. “By the Blood!” His scream was more like a groan and he nearly left his skin in his haste to get up and start stamping on the fleeing spiders.
“What is the fuss about?” Rawlt snarled before spluttering in shock. “Sweet Idumea! Look at ’em! Shake ’em off! Shake ’em off!”
The kishion grabbed Maia from behind and yanked her to her feet, brushing her cloak from her shoulders to her ankles. The magic burned fiercely inside her and she tried to control it, to douse it, but it was a thing all its own now, screaming at the spiders to scatter. Its force was so strong that it was heightening the soldiers’ fear as well.
One of the soldiers crushed a big one with his heel, and thousands of miniscule spiders spilled from the broken sack, like an anthill kicked over. Maia covered her mouth and cringed, but the little ones fled from her as well, vanishing into the darkness of the deep woodlands.
Huffing and cursing, the soldiers stamped and struck, clearing the ground and kicking up sand in a frenzy to relieve themselves of the danger. Bite marks covered their terrified faces and dirty hands, save for the ones who had worn gloves to sleep. Hunching over, she began coughing, trying to conceal the glow of the magic shining in her eyes. The kystrel still scalded her skin, but the only thought in her head was to keep her secret. She knew if they saw her silver eyes, she would die. Only the kishion had been told of her power.
Shoving away from her protector, she plunged into the woodlands. She ran face-first into a large silky web and desperately wiped the tickling, clinging strands from her face and hair. The magic roared through her body, making her giddy. Laughter threatened to spill out her mouth, but she smothered it and plunged deeper into the darkness. Screams or tears the soldiers would understand, but not laughter. Wetness and mud squished around her feet as she splashed through a thin stream. After stopping, she hunched over and breathed in quick gulps. The damp clothes felt rough against her skin.
Looking up, she saw it. Glowing eyes in the dark.
Panic struck her. The eyes were red and tinged with flame. She trembled with paralyzing fear, but the eyes did not blink. They only watched her from the darkness. She clutched at the kystrel, ready to fight off an attack with its magic. Coldness filled the dark, despite the humidity, and the moment seemed to stretch on forever. Still the eyes did not blink. It was a Leering, she slowly realized.
“What kind are you?” she whispered in the darkness, not daring to touch it yet. “A water Leering, I hope?”
Nothing.
The fear slowly ebbed out of her. As the kystrel cooled, the Leering’s red eyes began to flicker and dim. The trickling sound of water stopped. She breathed slowly, waiting. Nothing happened. Finally, the magic guttered out of her at last, congealing inside her bones and skin. Its aftermath made her feel sleepy and sick. The eyes were gone also, vanished in the dark.
“Lady Maia?”
It was the kishion.