She ignored his intruding whispers and summoned power and strength from the amulet. The wind began to pick up and tousle her clothes. She knew her eyes glowed silver, and she hoped the sight of her coming would be enough to discourage the beast in the mist.
From the wall of fog, a barking chuffing noise sounded. Argus whined with fear. Maia felt the tendrils of terror weaving around her own heart, but she banished the feelings with her power. It was like shedding a mantle and leaving it by the wayside. The fear could not seed within her. The mist loomed as she approached, the fog churning with anger as she neared it, unafraid.
“By Cheshu,” Jon Tayt said, his voice thick with emotion. She could sense his terror and awe, and she used her power to strip it away, emboldening him. The kishion had stopped in the snow, his hands trembling as they drew his daggers. Even he was afraid. She sipped the fear from his soul with her kystrel.
Maia halted, seeing a shadow in the fog cloud. It was a massive hulking shape and she heard the thick crunch of snow as it padded forward. At the shoulder it was at least eight spans high, wider and thicker than a monstrous boulder. Plumes of frost came from its snout as it chuffed again. Argus quivered with restlessness.
“Stand aside,” Maia ordered. As if it were not frightening enough on its own, it emitted a force that instilled fear. She shielded her companions from it, taking the brunt of it on herself. Her heart was hard as flint. She stared down at the beast, feeling the winds coming more forcefully at her back, making her cloak billow.
The beast snorted, fixed as an obelisk. She could feel the defiance in its bearing. She was challenging it in its own lair.
It had only an animal intelligence, but it was keen and cunning and terribly vicious. It came forward, rippling with muscle and sinew and shadow.
Maia held her ground, immune to its power, but she realized the only weapon she had against it was the kystrel’s magic.
Stand aside or I will destroy you, she thought, sending the words at it like shards of glass from her mind.
Give me meat. One man’s fear to savor. The other may pass.
The thoughts were half formed and facile, but she could immediately read its intent. The Fear Liath intended to claim a sacrifice for passing the mountain. A life. It hungered for fear. It fed on despair. It did not care whether she gave it Tayt or the kishion. But it would have one of them.
No, Maia challenged, her thoughts churning with anger. I will destroy you instead.
The beast’s thoughts seemed to chuckle. I will have my meat. I devour fear. I will take it!
It started to come at her, bounding forward on its front paws. She should never have tried to best it in its own lair, let alone at night, when its power was strongest. The chuffing noise turned into an earsplitting roar, and she saw only the slaver, the fangs, the claws. She would have quailed without the kystrel.
“Maia!” Jon Tayt shrieked in despair. He stepped in front of her, throwing his first axe at the beast’s head. The axe went true and struck the monster, but to no effect, deflecting into the snow. The second axe followed the first, whistling as it spun, and it also bounced off the monster’s snout.
Maia could sense triumph in the being’s primitive mind. She struck out with the magic, blasting it with every emotion and feeling she possessed. It wanted a feast, she would give it one, by Cheshu! The wind howled through the canyon, sending her hair flapping in front of her face, her cloak whipping wildly. The beast tried to claw her, knocking Jon Tayt aside, but the kishion lunged and shoved her down, taking the next blow himself. The claws raked through his cloak, his shirt, and she could see steam rising from the gash on his arm. The kishion jutted the dagger into the beast’s neck, but the blade would not penetrate.
The ice bit into Maia’s forearms, and she struggled back to her feet, sending a hot blast of fear into the beast’s chest, just as she had done to the one that guarded the bones of the fallen soldiers near the lost abbey. The memory brought with it a realization. That other beast had fled after snatching some of the soldiers. She had not defeated it at all. It had let them go after taking its tithe—its meal of fear to digest.
The creature’s jaws snapped at the kishion, and she heard him call out in pain as its teeth bit into his side and lifted him off the ground.
“No!” Maia screamed, holding out her hands and welling up more power. She had to conquer the beast. But how? The wind screamed and howled, mirroring her anger and frustration as the Fear Liath began dragging the kishion away, his blood smearing and steaming the snow.
Argus snagged at the kishion’s boot, snarling and tugging, trying to keep the man from being dragged away. The beast did not slow its pace.