The Desert Spear

another flare of magic from the roof. The entire outhouse shook with the impact, and Renna screamed again as dust and dirt clattered down on her, shaken loose by the blow.
    The wind demon tried again and again, shrieking its rage at the prey so near and yet so far. The wards threw the coreling back each time, but the rebounds shook the outhouse, and the old wood groaned in protest. How many blows could it withstand?
    At last, the coreling gave up. Renna heard the flap of wings and its receding cries as it soared off in search of easier prey.
    But the ordeal did not end there. Every coreling in the yard caught her scent before long. She endured the sparks of magic as flame demons raked at the wood with their tiny claws, shivering at the blasts of cold air as the wards converted their firespit. Worse were the wood demons, which drove off the others before long and pounded the wards so hard that the entire structure rocked with the force of each rebound. Renna felt every flare of the wards like a physical blow, and sank down to the floor, curling into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably.
    It seemed to go on for an eternity. After Creator only knew how many hours, Renna found herself praying for the wards to fail—as they surely must before the night was through—just to put an end to it. If she ’d been able to muster the strength to stand, she would have opened the door herself to let them in.
    More interminable time passed, and she found she lacked even the strength to cry. The flare of magic, the shrieks in the night, the stench of the midden pit, all faded as she sank deeper and deeper into a primal fear so powerful that the details ceased to exist.
    She lay curled tight, every muscle tensed at once, and tears flowed silently from her wide eyes as they stared into the darkness. Her breath came in short, sharp intakes, and her heart was a hummingbird’s wing. Her nails dug grooves into the wood of the floor, oblivious to the resulting blood and splinters.
    She didn’t even notice when the sounds and flashes ceased, and the demons returned to the Core.
    There was a thump as the outside bar was lifted, but Renna didn’t react until the door opened wide to the blinding light of the rising sun. After hours of staring into darkness, the light seared her eyes, snapping her mind from its retreat. She gasped deeply and bolted upright, throwing an arm up against the light, screaming as she kicked back until she was scrunched against the rear wall of the outhouse.
    Harl put his arms around her, soothing her hair. “There, there, girl,” he whispered, gentling her hair. “That hurt me as much as it did you.” He hugged her, firmly but gently, and rocked her from side to side as she sobbed.
    “That’s it, girl,” he said. “You have yerself a good cry. Get it all out.”
    And she did, clutching at him as she convulsed in sorrow, before she finally calmed.
    “Think you can mind me now?” Harl asked when her composure began to return. “Don’t want to have to do this again.”
    Renna nodded eagerly. “I promise, Da.” Her voice was hoarse from screaming.
    “That a girl,” Harl said, and lifted her in his arms, carrying her into the house. He put her in her own bed, and made her a hot broth, bringing lunch and dinner to her on a board she could lay across her lap. It was the first time Renna had ever seen him prepare food, but it was warm and good and filling.
    “You sleep in tomorrow,” he said that night. “Rest up, and you’ll be right as rain by afternoon.”
    Indeed, Renna did feel better the next day, and better still the day after that. Harl did not come to her at night, and he let her work at her own pace by day. Time passed, and it became clear that Cobie wasn’t coming back. It was just as well, Renna thought.
    Sometimes, between chores, she remembered flashes of the night in the outhouse, but she blocked them quickly from her mind. It was over, and she would be a good daughter from now on, so she need not fear going back there again.

CHAPTER 15
MARICK’S TALE
    p.
333 AR WINTER

    THE CROWD HAD GATHERED at Leesha’s hut early in the evening, while the sky was still awash in lavender and orange. At first it was just Darsy, Vika, and their apprentices, but then Gared and the other Cutters began to filter in, carrying their warded axes on their shoulders, and Erny and the rest of the Warders in the Hollow, along with their apprentices. Rojer arrived soon after, and Benn the glassblower. More and