“Over here,” she answered.
She thought it strange that the stream had vanished too. Water sloshed around her boots, but the earth swallowed the majority of it. The kishion approached her from behind. She cocked her head, grateful that she could not see his face in the dark. “Are my eyes still glowing?” she asked.
“They are. But it is fading quickly.”
“Did any of them . . . notice?”
“I think not. Come back to the camp. They have crushed all the spiders by now. Wretched little beasts. They were only sack spiders, Lady. The bite isn’t deadly.”
She turned to him. “But do they swarm like that? So many?”
He was quiet, the grimace on his square chin giving him such a carved, rugged appearance. “I have never seen it happen, my lady.”
Maia shivered. She looked back to where she had seen the glowing eyes of the Leering, but there was only darkness.
*
Morning penetrated the peeling birches and towering buck spruce. Winds from the ocean could not pierce the dense foliage, making the air damp and heavy. The soldiers were restless and angry the next morning. Maia felt sick to her stomach and fatigued. Using the kystrel always left her so. The thought of crossing such inhospitable terrain daunted her. They were marching deep into Dahomey.
“Up, Lady Maia. No lying abed for hours, if that is your habit. It is a stiff march, and we had best start early before the heat settles in.” Rawlt stood over her. The others were awake, looking like victims of the pox. Though she did not care what she looked like, she was grateful they had no mirrors. She was determined that they would survive this ordeal, and she started to rise without complaint.
The kishion leaned down and grabbed her elbow to help her stand. She scowled at him and jerked her arm away.
They ate day-old bread from the provision sacks, and she sat on a rock to nibble at a heel and some crumbling cheese. She was not hungry, but that was also the effect of the kystrel. It burned everything out of her. Silently, she thanked her good fortune that none of the common soldiers had seen her use it.
“Need a drink?” The captain offered his wineskin, which he had just finished sharing with another man.
Her stomach roiled and she shook her head no. “I will get some water. There is a stream nearby.”
Rising from the broken branch, Maia gathered her dirty skirts and walked back to the place where she had fled to the night before. The sun blanketed the overgrown area in hazy sheets, but most things were dappled in shadow. Fallen trees and debris made the footing treacherous. Rocks thick with moss choked the way, and she wondered how she had kept from stumbling in the dark. Listening, she did not hear any sound except for the buzzing of insects and the sighing of the branches. A massive egg-shaped boulder rose up in front of her from behind the thick brush. She stopped.
There was a face carved into the rock.
Maia approached it curiously, knowing it was the same Leering she had encountered during the night. The boulder was taller than her, but not as tall as a man. Its front was furrowed with growth and vines, but something had been chiseled midway up its surface. The face did not resemble any creature she knew, and the carving was so old and ravaged that it hinted more than revealed. Newer patterns and designs had been chiseled into the stone surrounding the face. The newer patterns defied her knowledge of the Dochte Mandar lore she had studied in her mentor’s tome.