Within another second, her sword had found the rider’s throat. I shouted a wordless encouragement as I gave her a warrior’s salute. We both turned toward the next golden-skinned foe, only to find Jervon’s steel transfixing his middle. With a heave, the Dalesman stepped back, pulling his weapon free. The remaining huntsman backed away, then as the four of us, swords ready, advanced on him, he turned and ran.
Before his mount could gain the archway, though, the Adept shouted a harsh phrase and, with a shriek, the creature tumbled flaming from the saddle of his white steed. I stared at the writhing, burning thing on the ground, feeling my throat tighten with horror. This was truly Power. If Maleron could slay with a word, how could we ever hope to prevail against him?
I backed a half step to close the circle again, seeing Jervon do the same. My shoulder brushed Joisan’s on my right, Elys’s on my left. And beside the Witch stood the creature my lady had named as Sylvya… Maleron’s half sister. My quick glimpse of her had shown me that she was not completely of humankind—a glimmering white down crested on her head, extending along her arms, which were bared by the short tunic she wore. In the moon-misted darkness, I had only a vague impression of a pointed-chinned face with overlarge eyes—beautiful in its way. Certainly a far cry from Nidu’s description to the Kioga of the hunt’s quarry as a rapacious, foul harpy.
I turned my head back toward the Adept at Nidu’s shriek. “See, Powerful One! They are your enemies and will strive to kill you! Loose your hounds!”
The sorcerer looked over at us, his eyes glinting cat green in the eerie glow of the mist. “I know you not, you four, but if you ally with her—this traitoress—then you are indeed my foes. Step aside from her, and you may depart freely.”
I found my voice, worked to keep it steady in spite of my fear. “Leaving you free to ravage and destroy as you will?” I shook my head. “Nay, Maleron.”
He started as he heard me speak his name aloud, and I knew a brief satisfaction that I had been able to threaten him by even so little. Names can have great Power in spelling—if only I had the knowledge of how to use such a potent weapon! But my mind remained untouched—no such intuition surfaced.
“Loose the hounds!” Nidu shrilled again. “I will guide them, Maleron!”
He nodded at us grimly. “So be it,” Gesturing, he reined his white mount away from the creatures milling at its feet. Their narrow-snouted heads pointed up at him, then began to swing back and forth as though they possessed no sight in those pitted caverns serving them as eyes. The Shaman’s drum began to throb again and I felt a warmth suffusing my body as it responded to those beats. A light that was also heat began to pulse forth from each of my heartbeats. I heard Joisan cry out, turned my head to see waves of heat and light lapping out from her, also.
“They hunt by blood-warmth!” Elys cried urgently. “We must stop the drumming! Lend me your will, sisters!”
I struggled to step forward, bring my sword up, and felt sweat burst from me as though I stood mailed in the summer’s sun. But I could not stir.
Throb… throb… throb… throb… throb…
Scarlet waves burst across my vision as I strained to keep my eyes focused on the hounds. I could no longer discern the difference between my own heart and the beats of the drum. Behind me, I could hear Elys chanting, but the sound was as far away as fallen Ulmskeep. Pacing slowly, their jaws hanging open enough to show narrow, dripping tongues, the hounds advanced on us. They were only a few lengths away from me—
Throb… throb… THROB… THROB…
Gasping for air through the wash of heat, I strained to raise sword, move my feet—
THROB! THROB!!! THROB—
With blurring swiftness something gleaming flew through the air toward the Shaman, knocking the drum from her hands. I could see again! I could move! The drum quivered, impaled on Guret’s short spear. From the archway I saw the Kioga youth straighten from a throwing stance. I shouted a quick word of thanks, then flexed my knees as I (hopped into a swordsman’s guard-position. At least the youth had given us the chance to go down fighting—
Behind me, Elys’s chant rang out loudly, and, mind-sharing, I sensed that Joisan, at least, was doing as the Witch had demanded and was aiding her in whatever spell or protection she strove to raise. The hounds, barely a sword’s length before me, hesitated, their slender heads weaving as if they were puzzled. Then, slowly, those heads swung toward Nidu as she crouched at the foot of one of the niches.
The woman gave a gasping cry of horror as gradually the outline of her body began to shimmer. It was as though the entire light of the moon were suddenly concentrated upon her, and I could feel warmth streaming from the Shaman even from where I stood. Elys’s voice rose higher, higher, became more commanding—
The pack leader turned, those pitted eyes naught but wells of shadow. Nidu screamed thinly, scrabbling for her ruined drum, but the heat radiated from her as though she were filled with a score of suns—
The hounds leaped, but their target was the Shaman. The black-clad woman went down under their writhing, sinuous forms with a shriek that was hideously stillborn.
I found I could not watch and turned my eyes back to the Adept. Maleron turned away from Nidu’s body with a half shrug. “That one should not have meddled with what she could not understand,” he said. “Perhaps her fate has lessoned you, half-man?”
I felt heat flood my cheeks at the casual gibe but forced myself to face him squarely. “You are so inured to death that naught can reach you, Maleron. Can you not see that your time is past? We stand ready to stop you before you can Shadow this land as you have Shadowed this lonely mountain for these many ages.”
“Stop me?” He chuckled, and the sound was enough to make the hounds, still tearing at the ravaged thing that had been the Shaman, stiffen and whine. “There are none left who can stop me, half-man… beast-man…” He swung off his white mount with a quick, sure motion, facing me nearly eye to eye across the moonlit oval of the ancient Guardians. “Any who might have been my peers have vanished. They are less than memory… less than dust.”
I hesitated for a long second, watching him summon his power as a soldier will gather his weapons. A faint, dark light began to flicker around him, and suddenly he seemed even taller, his eyes radiating palest ash-silver. I took a breath, lifting my wristband, ready to stand against him with all the Power that was in me—
All the Power that was in me…
It flooded into me, filling me, and yet this time I remained myself, not some other. I knew that the knowledge had bided its time, and that this time I was to be no unthinking, unknowing instrument of an ancient wisdom—but truly myself, more myself than ever before. Landisl had so waited until I had accepted my heritage, found my home, was ready.
“Not so,” I said, and my voice rang forth as though I had sounded the charge for a full company, filling this ensorcelled burial ground. I heard Joisan gasp, but I could not look away from the Adept now. My eyes bore into his as I strengthened my Will, and after a second he had to brace himself to meet my gaze. “It is time for you to realize just what you have done, Maleron, and in that knowing will lie your fate.”
His eyes narrowed and the darkness around him blazed like a wind-fed fire. “Who are you?” He faced me squarely. “I know you not, yet—”
“You know me,” I corrected him. “We were neighbors long ago, Margrave of the Heights. Your sister was far kin to me, though you were not, since your father’s first lady was of humankind. Do you remember my Name?”
He backed half a step, shaken. “Landisl? But you are not—”