Water gushed from the waymarker’s mouth behind her, startling her.
Rawlt tried to make it to his feet, but his legs wobbled and he crashed down. Blood smeared across his face. Verrick’s writhing stilled as his lifeblood drained away from his shattered hip. A booming bark erupted from the woodlands, far away, but still close enough to send shivers through Maia. The kishion was back on his feet, clutching a tear in his shirt and a wet slash on his chest.
Maia staggered away from the waymarker, stumbling in the debris of battered armor and skeletons, to help, but stopped short when she saw the brutal look on Rawlt’s face.
“Your eyes are glowing, Lady. I swear by Idumea, I see your eyes . . . like silver.”
Adler slunk from the trees, holding his weapon and trembling with fear. His face had a grayish cast and his eyes were red from crying.
Maia licked her lips. “You have a duty, Captain,” she reminded him sharply. “My father sent you to escort me to the lost abbey!” She was terrified by the monster they had faced, sickened by the death of so many of her guardians. Her courage was wilting, but she clenched her fists to steady herself and kept her voice strong.
“Your father!” he spat. Rawlt coughed and nearly choked. “If your father knows what you are, then may the Blight smite us all. Only the Dochte Mandar can use the amulets. No woman has been allowed to do so since the ships returned. It is too strong a thing, too wild a thing to trust to the knowledge of a . . . woman.” He coughed into his fist and brought up his sword. “I know . . . I must . . . I should kill you. It would not be murder.”
Maia had expected this reaction. Using the kystrel had hardened some of her feelings. She would use it against him if she had the need. “I will not let you kill me, Captain.” With her hand on her bosom, she wrestled with the magic aching inside her. It wanted to rip through Rawlt’s anger, slashing it like a soft cheese.
One of the men shouted, “Captain! Behind you!”
The kishion struck like a snake, slipping behind Rawlt and wrestling beneath the captain’s sword arm to bring a long-knife to his throat.
No! Maia sent a blast of the magic at the kishion, stunning him and keeping the blade from shearing through the captain’s neck. Rawlt sputtered an oath and shoved away from the man. With eyes full of hate, he charged Maia through the debris of the dead. The kystrel surged, snapping her control of it like a frail tether, and struck him with its power. Wind shrieked and howled, whistling and keening through the trees. His expression filled with loathing and fear as the gale shoved him backward. Bone dust and rust flakes blinded and stung him. Tarnished helmets rattled loose from the pile before smashing into him. He shielded his face and tried again to press through the winds. Thunder rumbled in the air. Maia saw the other soldier fleeing into the woods. Giant trees swayed with the gale, and water gushed from the waymarker in a river.
“Go, Captain,” Maia warned against the hail of fragments. “Go!”
Rawlt choked on his words as he backed away from her and tumbled into the heap of bones and smashed breastplates. Cuts and windburn dotted his face as he turned and fled. Maia let the magic burn through her, running its course while ravaging her senses. She climbed the small mound to the waymarker and touched its rough face, learning in an instant where the next one sat. Dead branches crashed through the wood as the windstorm eased. She turned and saw the kishion in a heap, lying still. She hoped she had not injured him too much with the kystrel.
After stumbling through the wreckage, she knelt by him and watched the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
“Are you . . . ?”
The kishion struck before she could finish the thought. Pain blossomed in her ribs, and she saw his long-knife. His gray eyes met hers coldly.
“If you ever use the magic on me again, I will kill you.”
Maia’s heart lurched when she realized that rather than shoving the blade inside her, he had only pricked her with the tip. Fear seeped into her stomach and she started trembling. Glancing down, she saw blood blooming on her dress. It terrified her how close to death she was. A little more pressure on the haft of the long-knife was all it would take. There was nothing to stop it from spilling her life away. It stung.
“If you are going to kill me, kishion, do it now and get this over with.” She met his stare with a challenge of her own, but she could not repress a pained flinch.
He withdrew the long-knife and wiped her blood on his pants. “As if I needed your permission. Wait here for me. I am going to kill the two fools you let run away.”
Maia stanched the wound in her abdomen firmly with her hand. “No.”
The look in his eyes was frightening when he turned back.