Maia shook her head. “No, I must stop her now. The Medium bids me to go.”
He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back behind the boulder, his face angry. “There are six Dochte Mandar and a kishion down there!” he snarled.
Maia felt a burning confidence inside her as the Medium swelled within her breast. She felt the Leerings below them thrum in response. Some of their eyes began to glow. Shouts of warning rang out from the Dochte Mandar below.
“What are you doing?” the kishion demanded hotly, grabbing a fistful of her gown with his hand.
“Nothing,” she answered, feeling a little helpless and giddy against the flood of power unloosing inside her. “It is the Medium. They cannot stop us. Believe in me.”
Maia pushed him away. A mingled sense of confidence and determination filled her body. She took a deep breath and then started down the little hillock toward the encampment. The kishion swore under his breath and followed in her wake.
The voices down below were speaking in Dahomeyjan. These were Corriveaux’s servants, Maia deduced. She strode quickly, as if a current of water were under her feet, carrying her forward. The sun was just overhead, a stab of light that pierced through the skeletal trees. Huge stone ruins and boulders crowded around, painted green and black with moss and lichen. She felt the Leerings of the area respond as she approached, and the sound of gushing water hit her ears.
“Who is that?” someone shouted. “From the woods!”
Maia heard the twang of a crossbow, and a bolt sliced through the air. As it approached her, the shaft veered wide and shattered against a boulder. She walked with confidence, unafraid of the Dochte Mandar foot soldiers—unafraid of anything. She felt a purpose, a firm purpose inside her. It was noonday. It was the moment of the Medium’s greatest strength.
She felt its power flow through her. The two Dochte Mandar by the campfire had risen and dusted off their black robes. They came at her, their eyes glowing silver.
“Why are you here?” one of them demanded. He had a short beard and a look of rage on his face. The two joined their wills together and hammered at her with a wall of fear. It felt like a small trickle compared to the avalanche inside her. Maia looked at one of them, and suddenly a nearby Leering crackled with energy and a blast of white blinded everyone, followed by a huge clap of thunder.
The two men lay on the ground, their robes smoking. One of them groaned in pain, the other was listless.
Maia continued toward the ruins. Black robes fluttered between the columns of boulders and crumbled supports. She ignored them, focusing on reaching the entrance to the lost abbey. Followed by the kishion, she climbed up the wreckage, recognizing the hidden entrance to the abbey since they had found it once before. Maia scrabbled up the rocks, feeling the winds blow behind and around her. The sky rumbled, and lightning began to streak through the sudden clouds that converged on the hilltop of the lost abbey.
The sun was directly overhead, making Maia’s shadow just a small patch on the ground. She sensed a Leering that could control the wind, and summoned its power, bringing another force to bear against those that the Dochte Mandar were harnessing. The Leerings of the abbey hummed with power. She felt the defenses begin to activate. Light began to shine around them.
She watched as one of the Dochte Mandar tugged the kystrel off his neck, tossed it away, and fled into the woods. As Maia and the kishion turned the corner, they saw the black gap descending into the depths of the hetaera’s tunnel. There awaited the guardian, the defender—the other kishion.
“He is mine,” said her companion, his knives held up.
The other man produced blades of his own, and the two saluted each other.