“Where did you get it?” she asked after another lengthy pause. She was very near to tears and felt her throat tighten. Its sadness permeated her bones and marrow.
The locket clicked shut. Her heart lurched when the music ceased. It almost made her plead to hear it again. She was desperate to hear it. Wincing with emotion, she stared at him and saw the expression on his mouth—full of bitterness and almost a sneer at her question.
“From a man that I killed,” he said flatly. “No more questions. You would not like knowing more than that.”
In that moment, there was a snuffling growl at the main door and the light was eclipsed by an even darker shadow—a bear with a shiny black pelt. It yawned with a bellowing cough, dropped to all fours, and charged the Kishion, all muscle and bulk and slathering teeth. A dust-like glitter shook from its pelt as it charged, bringing a strange phosphorescent light with it.
Phae screamed.
The beast was unlike any bear she had seen roaming the mountains of Stonehollow. It was bigger, hunchbacked, and both of its eyes glowed silver. With a roar and snarl it charged, its claws scraping the floor as it hurtled at them.
The Kishion was on his feet instantly, blocking its charge with his own body. The beast smashed into him with a shoulder, sending him back with crushing force into the stone wall. She watched the Kishion’s head snap back, jolted. It started on him without a pause, roaring with fury and raking him with claws and teeth.
She was frozen in terror for only a moment before her legs commanded her to run. She went straight to the nearest window and vaulted out of it, hearing the beast shift and lunge after her. She landed in the tall grass at an odd angle and went down. Its head protruded from the window and slaver splattered against her cheek. It roared in fury and Phae quickly rolled through the grass, struggling to her feet, and sprinted toward the orchard. She knew that bears were faster and that they could run up hills or down hills equally well. Maneuvering through trees might slow it a little, but she did not care. She was fleeing from two enemies at once. The bear’s frightening arrival was the luck she needed.
The limbs of the pear trees whipped at her, but she kept on going, ducking and dodging around them. A roar sounded in the night sky behind her. She heard huffing and then a bark of pain. A battle was raging inside the skull of a home. Phae stumbled over a tree root and went down. The impact bruised her arms, but she shoved herself up and hurried, praying that both of the beasts would kill each other.
Phae made it through the grove and reached the edge of a dilapidated fence. The moon provided fragile light, and she slowed to gauge the distance. She planted her hands on the edge of the fence and jagged slivers bit into her palms. They stung, but she managed to cross the fence wall and start running into the overgrown meadow beyond. There was a steep hill ahead of her and she ran toward the base of it where she found a copse of trees that would help provide some cover.
An owl hooted and flew overhead, nearly making her shriek in fright. The sounds of the battle were intensifying behind her, carried by the breeze. Growls and snarls brought images of violence to her mind. Then a death cry sounded, a shriek of pain followed by silence. The sound came from the bear. She knew it instinctively. The Kishion had killed it.
Fear.
He had warned her not to run from him. He had threatened her. Panic lengthened her stride. She was huffing to breathe, desperate for wings to carry her away. What would he do when he caught her? Her stomach coiled with dread. Of course he would catch her. How could she run from a man who did not sleep? Who did not even tire? Who could not be killed, even by a beast three times his size?
Why had she run? What was she thinking? What could she possibly hope to accomplish against the Arch-Rike’s most fearsome minion? She was nothing but a young woman. She had the fireblood, but she already supposed that fire would not harm him if bee stings did not. There was only her small axe to fight him off and she remembered how Trasen had fared against him. She had nothing. Nothing!
Phae’s mind was scrambled with horror and desperation. Maybe he wouldn’t bother taking her back to Kenatos now. She was too much trouble. He would just slit her throat and apologize to the Arch-Rike that she had been too difficult. Her legs thrashed in the long grasses, her stride increasing even more.
What could she do?
Should she go back? Should she apologize? Should she continue to try to escape and hope the battle with the creature had wounded him somehow? Perhaps it had. Perhaps it was a spirit creature that could damage him. Too many thoughts jabbed and poked inside her head, she could not decide which one to heed. Flee or stay? Submit or defy? Grovel or scorn? She hated the helpless feeling, the crack that drained her courage like a punctured cask. Trasen would know what to do. Master Winemiller would know what to do. Phae was only terrified and confused. She stole a look behind.