The Warded Man

something, and it was easy to blame Rojer and his inflated promises for what happened. But in her heart, she knew it was more her fault than his. He left Angiers for her .
    She looked at the darkening sky and wondered if she would have time to apologize before they were torn to pieces.
    Movement in the trees and scrub behind them sent them both whirling around in fear. A man, swathed in gray robes, stepped into the clearing. His face was hidden in the shadows of his hood, and though he carried no weapons, Leesha could tell from his bearing that he was dangerous. If Marick was a wolf, this man was a lion.
    She steeled herself, ravishment fresh in her mind, and honestly wondered for a moment which would be worse: another rape, or the demons.
    Rojer was up in an instant, grabbing her arm and thrusting her behind him. He brandished the stick before him like a spear, his face twisted in a snarl.
    The man ignored them both, moving over to inspect Rojer’s circle. “You have holes in your net there, there, and there,” he said, pointing, “and this,” he kicked the dirt by one crude symbol, “this isn’t even a ward.”
    “Can you fix it?” Leesha asked hopefully, pulling free from Rojer’s grasp and moving toward the man.
    “Leesha, no,” Rojer whispered urgently, but she ignored him.
    The man didn’t even glance her way. “There’s no time,” he replied, pointing to the corelings already beginning to rise at the edge of the clearing.
    “Oh, no,” Leesha whimpered, her face draining of color.
    The first to solidify was a wind demon. It hissed at the sight of them and crouched as if to spring, but the man gave it no time. As Leesha watched in amazement, he leapt right at the coreling, grabbing its arms to prevent it from spreading its wings. The demon’s flesh hissed and smoked at his touch.
    The wind demon shrieked and opened its maw, filled with needle-sharp teeth. The man snapped his head back, flipping off his hood, then drove forward, slamming the top of his bald head into the coreling’s snout. There was a flash of energy, and the demon was thrown backward. It struck the ground, stunned. The man stiffened his fingers, driving them into the coreling’s throat. There was another flash, and black ichor erupted in a spray.
    The man turned sharply, wiping the ichor from his fingers as he strode past Rojer and Leesha. She could see his face now, though there was little human about it. His head was completely shaved, even his eyebrows, and in place of the lost hair were tattoos. They circled his eyes and rested atop his head, lined his ears and covered his cheeks, even running along his jaw and around his lips.
    “My camp is near,” he said, ignoring their stares. “Come with me if you want to see the dawn.”
    “What about the demons?” Leesha asked, as they fell in behind him. As if to accentuate her point, a pair of wood demons, knobby and barklike, rose up to block their path.
    The man pulled off his robe, stripping down to a loincloth, and Leesha saw that the tattoos were not limited to his head. Wards ran along his rippling arms and legs in intricate patterns, with larger ones on his elbows and knees. A circle of protection covered his back, and another large tattoo stood at the center of his muscular chest. Every inch of him was warded.
    “The Warded Man,” Rojer breathed. Leesha found the name dimly familiar.
    “I’ll handle the demons,” the man said. “Take this,” he ordered, handing Leesha his robe.
    He sprinted at the corelings, tumbling into a somersault and uncoiling to strike both demons in the chest with his heels. Magic exploded from the blow, blasting the wood demons from their path.
    The race through the trees was a blur. The Warded Man set a brutal pace, unhindered by the corelings that leapt at them from all sides. A wood demon sprang at Leesha from the trees, but the man was there, driving a warded elbow into its skull with explosive force. A wind demon swooped in to slash its talons at Rojer, but the Warded Man tackled it away, punching right through one of its wings, grounding it.
    Before Rojer could thank him, the Warded Man was off again, picking their path through the trees. Rojer helped Leesha keep up, untangling her skirts when they caught in the brush.
    They burst from the trees, and Leesha could see a fire across the road: the Warded Man’s camp. Standing between them and succor, though, was a group of corelings, including a massive, eight- foot-tall rock