“Let us pass,” Maia said, her voice sounding hollow even to her.
The captain of the riders looked at her. His eyes burned with desire. “Kill the dog and the hunter. Bring her to my tent.”
Jon Tayt planted his foot and hurled the axe at the nearest man holding a crossbow. The blade snapped the taut crossbeam, and the mechanism shattered in his hands. Argus snarled and barked furiously, yapping at the horses’ legs as he darted in and out between them, causing the steeds to snort and buck at the commotion.
Jon Tayt drew another axe and sent it winging into the chest of a second crossbowman, toppling him from the saddle.
The kishion struck from the shadows of the road. He had skulked into the darkness the moment they heard the riders’ approach, and now he emerged, digging his dagger into the captain’s leg, making him howl with pain.
Someone grabbed a fistful of Maia’s hair and yanked, dragging her backward. She tripped as her attacker’s horse jostled her and pain shot across her scalp. Reaching back, she grabbed the man’s gloved wrist and tried to pull him off his horse, but all she managed to do was collide with the beast.
“I have her!”
Ignoring the pain, Maia twisted to get a better look at her attacker, only stopping when she saw a dagger dangling from a sheath on the man’s belt. She let go of the wrist and grabbed the hilt, pulling it free.
Another horse boxed her in on the other side, and two arms reached down to pull her up by the armpits. The motion threw her off balance, but at least her hair was free. She struggled against his grip, but he easily turned her over, stomach down, and gave the horse a sharp kick to get it moving. In a series of quick movements, Maia stabbed his thigh with the dagger, drew it out, and stabbed him a second time in the hip. Grunting with pain, he dropped the reins and grabbed her wrist to prevent a third strike. He swore at her, the words laced with anger and pain.
Something yanked on her boot and pulled her off the horse. She landed sharply on the road, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Argus crouched over her, defensively snapping and barking with savage fury.
“By the Blood, kill them all!” the captain roared.
Maia struggled to kneel, trying to breathe through the fiery pain shooting through her lungs. There were so many soldiers. Hooves trampled dangerously near to her, one nearly crushing her hand. She choked for breath, feeling a surging panic.
Dust clotted in her eyes, stinging them. She hunkered down, becoming as small as she could, but a horse still knocked her over. She was going to be trampled. Argus yipped with pain.
Maia could feel the Myriad Ones swarming her, drawn to her terrified emotions, feasting on them. There were hundreds of them—no, perhaps a thousand or more. She could feel their effect on the crazed horses and the lust-filled soldiers, in every blade of grass that surrounded them. The immensity of the feeling swept over her, like the stars glittering in the sky above and the crescent-shaped moon. She felt them probing against her clothes, rooting into her skin—hungry to be part of her, to claim her, to squirm their way inside her. Her heart wrinkled with dread, and she felt a burning sensation in her skin.
Maia lifted her head, drawing on the power of the kystrel.
She blasted the Myriad Ones away from her, sending them scattering about like leaves before a hurricane. She conquered the ache in her stomach enough to struggle to her feet. Clamping an arm around her middle, she lifted her head and stared at the wounded captain, who gazed back at her with terror. Her eyes were glowing silver, she knew that well enough, so he clearly knew she was using a kystrel.
She snuffed out his lust like a candle doused in a bucket. His courage, his fierceness, his bravado—she wrapped these up in the tangled veins of the kystrel and stripped him of everything that made him a man. His horse bucked with horror, and he slipped off the back, crashing to the road in a heap of gibbering fear.
The soldiers saw her and knew her for what she was.
“By the Blood!” someone screamed.
“Kill her! Kill her!”
One crossbowman still lived. He lifted the stock of his weapon and aimed for her heart. Maia sent out a blast of fear, throwing it in every direction like a shattered bottle of glass. The jagged bits flung into everyone. The crossbowman blinked, threw down his weapon, and spurred his horse to flee. Maia whipped the horses with her mind, making them believe they were being hunted by lions. Rather than respond to bit or bridle, they charged recklessly and quickly as far as they could.
Maia stood there like a beacon of fire, her shoulders drawn in, her cloak whipping about her as the crackle and pop of thunder rippled overhead. The winds were drawn to her, and she no longer felt any sign of the Myriad Ones. They were all cowering and skulking away from her.