Nightchild

He smacked a fist into his palm and glared at Evansor, hearing the clamour of the crowd grow. The mage was badly frightened but Selik knew he would speak and condemn himself.

'Please, my friends,' he said, shouting to make himself heard. 'I'm not your enemy, I can help you.'

'Yes, by getting out!' came a voice. It was a Black Wing voice but nobody cared. The crowd was shouting.

'Out! Out! Out!'

'Please!' Evansor's eyes were desperate, flitting around the room.

Selik grabbed the collar of his shirt.

'Don't touch me, Black Wing, or I'll-'

'What?' And Selik's voice stilled them. 'Cut me down like your kind have the crops of these good people? Which spell will it be? Fire or ice?'

Selik dragged him closer, then shoved him into the crowd. The fist of a Black Wing came out of nowhere and slammed into his cheek, snapping his head back and sending him stumbling. The crowd was roaring now, but none would move forward. Evansor, though, was losing control. Selik smiled as he saw the mage's eyes narrow in anger then unfocus as he prepared.

'He's going to cast!' shouted a voice. A Black Wing voice.

Selik gestured at two of his men. They rushed in. Evansor let the spell go. It was a ForceCone, hard enough to fling the men back, where they clattered into those behind them.

'Get back. I mean you no harm!' shouted Evansor. 'Please.'

A bottle came flying across the bar, missing the mage by a fraction.

'He's broken my arm!' moaned a man. And the surge was triggered.

Selik stepped smartly aside as they came, leaving his foot out to trip one man who fell into those in front, pushing them on. They'd surely only meant to grab him, take him to the village borders and sling him out but Selik's men were in the rush and after the first punch was thrown, Evansor didn't stand a chance.

With the old farmers desperately trying to pull their people away, blow after blow rained down on the helpless mage, whose shouts and begging cries were swallowed up in the pack howl and the desire to mete out punishment on the blameless.

Selik saw a chair leg flash across Evansor's face, splitting his nose; he saw boots stamping and kicking his body and he saw a knife flash in the lantern light and plunge into his heart. They were still punching him long after he had died.

The Black Wing commander gathered his men to him while the hatred dissipated as quickly as it had grown. Village men started to back off, stu

Selik smiled and walked to the door of the i

'The path of the righteous is ever drenched in the blood of the evil,' he a

He swept from the i

Lya

But they couldn't.

Well, they did at first, but now Mummy was away looking for Daddy and they seemed to grow older. They walked slower and their eyes were all dark, inside and out. And that made them cross so much.

So the nightmares had come back. And the wind roared in her head and made it hurt and sometimes she felt like it was dark although it was day. They always helped her when that started to happen. She wished Mummy was here to cuddle her and lie with her when she cried.

Lya

For a moment, the wind stopped inside her. It was a relief. She

thought hard and the branches of the nearest trees moved towards her, bringing the sprites to where she could talk to them. This would be a fun game.

Cleress dragged deeply on the pipe, feeling the inhalation throughout her wracked and tired body. The mixed weeds calmed her muscles and anaesthetised the arthritis twisting her left knee into a gnarled, swollen parody of a joint.

Beside her at the table, Myriell slumped in her chair, the exhaustion plain on her face. She could sleep soon, much as Aviana did now. Only Ephemere watched over die child who was destroying them all so fast.

They had disastrously miscalculated her power, or rather, the power they would have to expend in shielding such an unbalanced Awakening. And the girl had such energy outside of magic too. She was a lovely child but was becoming more demanding every day. Her moods swung wildly between joy and wonder; and fear and darkness.

Cleress had been at pains to remind them all that, despite the ravaging mana surging barely checked through Lya

So there were mistakes, the worst of which was to assume Lya

Cleress took another long draw on the pipe, ensured it stayed lit and passed it to Myriell, having to place the stem between her sister's lips before she acknowledged it was there.

'What time is it?' she mumbled before inhaling.

'Too early to be relying on the Lemiir in that pipe, Myra. The sun is riding down but night-time is way away.'

'Or maybe not so for the child.'

'No,' agreed Cleress.

Myriell's brief assessment nagged at all their shattered minds. They supported each other, gave each other their strength and tended their bodies and minds as carefully as they could. But the question remained. Would Lya

Cleress feared the worst.

Cleress, orchard, now. Ephy's voice rang through her head, an alarm that sent her heart racing.

'Trouble, Myra. Stay here. I'll call you if we need you.'

'Try not to,' muttered Myriell.

Cleress dragged herself to her feet and hobbled towards the orchard, the effects of the Lemiir not strong enough to fully dampen the pain that shot up her leg and through her back every time she put pressure on the arthritic knee.

Out of the dining room and through the ballroom she moved, worry hurrying her step, Ephemere's anxiety dusting across her mind.

Ephy was standing at the doors to the orchard, staring out, one hand on the frame to brace herself. When Cleress joined her, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

In the centre of the orchard sat Lya