I have her, the man thought to someone else. Another Dochte Mandar loomed into view and he put his hand on the stone next to the blond man’s. His thoughts joined the fray. She slept by the gargouelle last night. Orlander is almost there. I will try and hold her until they come. We have her! She is the one we seek.
Maia shoved at his thoughts with her will. The vise-like grip of the power that had her pinned groaned, and she tried to pry free. Some of her memories leaked through the bond.
She is strong, Corriveaux! the second Dochte Mandar thought, almost admiring.
Not as strong as me, the blond man snapped. She could still see him . . . the bearded one, Corriveaux. His thoughts began to intrude into her mind. His will was like a bar of iron, and he used it to bludgeon her resistance, his jaw clenched with fury.
Yes, you are Marciana Soliven, Corriveaux thought to her. We seized your ship and crew. Whilst you slept, I sent soldiers ahead with two hunters. Do not think you can escape me. Yield, Lady Marciana.
Maia’s whole body trembled with fear and rage. She flexed her will against theirs and felt the resistance start to budge. Corriveaux scowled, his brooding look turning darker. I see you. You cannot outmatch the resources of the King of Dahomey. We will hunt you down, my lady. Trust that. You cannot escape. When the soldiers arrive, you will surrender to them. You will instruct your protector to hand over his weapons. You will . . .
Maia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the Dochte Mandar’s thoughts. Despite her best efforts, they embedded themselves into her consciousness like runes carved into a rock. He was forcing his will on her, commanding her to obey his instructions. A raw compulsion gripped her, and she knew that if she saw those men, she would obey.
“My lady?” the kishion asked, looking up at her, at last sensing something was amiss.
She could not speak. Her tongue clove to her mouth. She looked down at him, her eyes pleading.
Leave me alone, Maia thought in desperation. Do not interfere.
I cannot hold her, the second Dochte Mandar thought with a groan of mental anguish.
We have her, Corriveaux thought. With both of us, we can tame her. Do not slacken your thoughts!
The grip on her mind tightened further, sending a piercing shard of agony into her skull. She began to moan, feeling her will crumble. Her knees were shaking, and the rest of her body started to convulse. She hunkered inside herself, summoning reserves of strength and determination. She would battle them off. There was no choice. She was willing to die in her quest, but not this soon.
Lady Marciana, you will surrender. You will surrender. You will surrender!
Her breath gushed out of her as the kishion tackled her away from the waymarker and landed on top of her. With her connection to the Leering abruptly broken, she felt herself free of the torturous grip on her mind. She was soon hyperventilating, gasping for breath.
“They found us!” she gasped through chattering teeth. “The Dochte Mandar are in the woods!”
“Where?” he asked, getting up quickly and pulling her with him. He unsheathed a blade and whirled around, staring into the dark woods.
“The way we came,” she said, pointing west. “I saw them in my mind. They said they have our ship and crew. They knew we were camping by the boulder, so they sent men ahead, including two hunters. We must flee, but where? Now we have no way of crossing the water.”
Her heart pounded with confusion. This was a foreign land. It was the land where death was born.
“If the ship was taken, then the west is closed to us. We have no choice—we must go north and cross Dahomey on foot.”
Maia knew he was right, though she dreaded it with all her heart. An ancient rivalry existed between Comoros and Dahomey. The ruler of Dahomey was an ambitious and ruthless young king who had sworn to humble her father and subdue Comoros, not only for daring to expel the Dochte Mandar, but also for breaking the long-ago plight troth binding him to Maia. What the King of Dahomey did not know was that her father’s kingdom was already rife with violence and unrest. And now its fate rested on her shoulders, the banished daughter her father had disinherited.