through the flesh of his eyelids. The smell of fetid torch smoke faded from his consciousness.
He floated.
He reached out, locating his enemies, visualizing them from a slight elevation. His lips continued to work.
He struck flint against steel, caught the spark with his mind.
Six pairs of eyes jerked his way.
A luminous something grew round the spark, which seemed frozen in time, neither waxing nor dying. The luminosity spread diaphanous wings, floated upward. Soon it looked like a gigantic, glowing moth.
The Witch shrieked. Fear and rage drenched her voice.
Tain willed the moth.
Its wings fluttered like silk falling. The Witch flailed with her hands, could touch nothing. The moth's clawed feet pierced her hood, seized her hair.
Flames sprang up.
The woman screamed.
The moth ascended lightly, fluttered toward Grimnir.
The Caydarman remained immobile, stunned, till his hair caught fire. Then he squealed and ran for his horse.
The others broke a moment later. Tain burned one more, then recalled the elemental.
It was a minor magick, hardly more than a trick, but effective enough as a surprise. And no one died.
One Caydarman came close.
They were a horse short, and too interested in running to share with the man who came up short.
Whooping, old man Kosku stormed from the house. He let an arrow fly. It struck the Caydarman in the shoulder. Kosku would have killed him had Tain not threatened him with the moth.
Tain recalled the spark again. This time it settled to the point it had occupied when the moth had come to life. The elemental faded. The spark fell, dying before it hit ground.
Tain withdrew from his trance. He returned flint and steel to his pouch, rose. "Good," he whispered. "It's done."
He was tired. He hadn't the mental or emotional muscle to sustain extended use of the Power. He wasn't sure he could make it home.
But he had been a soldier of the Dread Empire. He did not yield to weariness.
XII
The fire's smoke hung motionless in the heavy air. Little more than embers remained. The ashes beneath were deep. The little light remaining stirred spooky shadows against the odd, conical rocks.
Kai Ling slept soundly. He had made his bed there for so long that his body knew every sharp edge beneath it.
The hillmen sentinels watched without relaxing. They knew this bane too well. They bothered him no more. All they wanted of him was warning time, so their women and children could flee.
Kai Ling sat bolt upright. He listened. His gaze turned west. His head thrust forward. His nose twitched like that of a hound on point. A smile toyed with his lips. He donned his golden panther mask.
The sentinels ran to tell their people that the man-of-death was moving.
XIII
Toma and Mikla slept half the day. Tain labored on the windmill, then the house. He joined Rula for lunch. She followed him when he returned to work.
"What happened to them?" he asked.
"It was almost sunup when they came home. They didn't say anything."
"They weren't hurt?"
"It was over before they got there." The fear edged her voice again, but now she had it under control.
I'm building a mountain of responsibility, Tain thought.
She watched him work a while, admiring the deft way he pegged timbers into place.
He clambered up to check the work Toma had done on the headers. Out of habit he scanned the horizon.
A hill away, a horseman watched the stead. Tain balanced on the header. The rider waved. Tain responded.
Someone began cursing inside the sod house. Rula hurried that way. Tain sighed. He wouldn't have to explain a greeting to the enemy.
Minutes later Mikla came outside. He had a hangover. A jar of beer hung from his left hand.
"Good afternoon," Tain called.
"The hell it is." Mikla came over, leaned against a stud. "Where were you last night?"
"What? Asleep in the barn. Why?"
"Not sure. Toma!"
Toma came outside. He looked worse than his brother-in-law. "What?"
"What'd old man Kosku say?"
"I don't know. Old coot talked
He floated.
He reached out, locating his enemies, visualizing them from a slight elevation. His lips continued to work.
He struck flint against steel, caught the spark with his mind.
Six pairs of eyes jerked his way.
A luminous something grew round the spark, which seemed frozen in time, neither waxing nor dying. The luminosity spread diaphanous wings, floated upward. Soon it looked like a gigantic, glowing moth.
The Witch shrieked. Fear and rage drenched her voice.
Tain willed the moth.
Its wings fluttered like silk falling. The Witch flailed with her hands, could touch nothing. The moth's clawed feet pierced her hood, seized her hair.
Flames sprang up.
The woman screamed.
The moth ascended lightly, fluttered toward Grimnir.
The Caydarman remained immobile, stunned, till his hair caught fire. Then he squealed and ran for his horse.
The others broke a moment later. Tain burned one more, then recalled the elemental.
It was a minor magick, hardly more than a trick, but effective enough as a surprise. And no one died.
One Caydarman came close.
They were a horse short, and too interested in running to share with the man who came up short.
Whooping, old man Kosku stormed from the house. He let an arrow fly. It struck the Caydarman in the shoulder. Kosku would have killed him had Tain not threatened him with the moth.
Tain recalled the spark again. This time it settled to the point it had occupied when the moth had come to life. The elemental faded. The spark fell, dying before it hit ground.
Tain withdrew from his trance. He returned flint and steel to his pouch, rose. "Good," he whispered. "It's done."
He was tired. He hadn't the mental or emotional muscle to sustain extended use of the Power. He wasn't sure he could make it home.
But he had been a soldier of the Dread Empire. He did not yield to weariness.
XII
The fire's smoke hung motionless in the heavy air. Little more than embers remained. The ashes beneath were deep. The little light remaining stirred spooky shadows against the odd, conical rocks.
Kai Ling slept soundly. He had made his bed there for so long that his body knew every sharp edge beneath it.
The hillmen sentinels watched without relaxing. They knew this bane too well. They bothered him no more. All they wanted of him was warning time, so their women and children could flee.
Kai Ling sat bolt upright. He listened. His gaze turned west. His head thrust forward. His nose twitched like that of a hound on point. A smile toyed with his lips. He donned his golden panther mask.
The sentinels ran to tell their people that the man-of-death was moving.
XIII
Toma and Mikla slept half the day. Tain labored on the windmill, then the house. He joined Rula for lunch. She followed him when he returned to work.
"What happened to them?" he asked.
"It was almost sunup when they came home. They didn't say anything."
"They weren't hurt?"
"It was over before they got there." The fear edged her voice again, but now she had it under control.
I'm building a mountain of responsibility, Tain thought.
She watched him work a while, admiring the deft way he pegged timbers into place.
He clambered up to check the work Toma had done on the headers. Out of habit he scanned the horizon.
A hill away, a horseman watched the stead. Tain balanced on the header. The rider waved. Tain responded.
Someone began cursing inside the sod house. Rula hurried that way. Tain sighed. He wouldn't have to explain a greeting to the enemy.
Minutes later Mikla came outside. He had a hangover. A jar of beer hung from his left hand.
"Good afternoon," Tain called.
"The hell it is." Mikla came over, leaned against a stud. "Where were you last night?"
"What? Asleep in the barn. Why?"
"Not sure. Toma!"
Toma came outside. He looked worse than his brother-in-law. "What?"
"What'd old man Kosku say?"
"I don't know. Old coot talked
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