Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(9)

Seraph and Hennea began pacing a double circle around the well in which Lehr told them the creature was living. Hennea took the outer ring and Seraph the inner.

"It killed easily," said Seraph.

"It's done this before. Doubtless Lehr would be able to track it back from one isolated farm or small settlement to another. If we hadn't stumbled upon it here, it might have continued for another few centuries before it attracted a Traveler's attention."

"Are you certain that it's in the well now?" asked Tier.

The Travelers from Benroln's clan had taken up a shady spot not too far away to watch. Not willing to risk Seraph getting eaten, Tier walked with the Ravens, careful to stay out of their pattern making.

He kept a weather eye on the well and noticed that Jes was doing the same. Lehr had taken a post not too far from the other Travelers, where he could see the wellhead. He had his bow strung and an arrow ready for flight.

"Hopefully," said Hennea. "Seraph and I will establish a net" - she waved her hand vaguely to indicate the paths they'd been establishing - "that will stifle its magic."

"What kind of magic does a mistwight have?"

Hennea shrugged. "Some illusion, a bit of water magic."

"They are nasty enough without their magic," Seraph said. "We'll hamper it any way we can. The most trouble we'll have with it is getting it out of the well since it almost certainly knows that we're here. It fed not long ago, so it won't be hungry."

"I, for one, have no intention of climbing down a well to face a tainted mistwight. What are we going to do about the well?" Hennea didn't sound overly concerned.

"Fire is nice," said Seraph. "It won't hurt the well itself."

"Can't it just submerge?" asked Tier.

Seraph pursed her lips. "Not without magic. They can't breathe underwater or hold their breath for long. If I scorch him fast enough, he'll not have a chance to call magic."

She stopped walking, and Tier's knees informed him it was none too soon.

"We've walked the round," she said. "Hennea, are you ready?"

He didn't see what they did, but he felt the magic right enough, sweeping through him like a cool wind.

"I thought you didn't need ritual for your magic," said Tier. "Isn't that the main difference between you and a solsenti mage?"

"We don't need it," Seraph told him. "But sometimes a few runes or a ritual walk to establish a warding is quicker and more efficient than doing it by brute force."

"Let's give a closer look to the well," Hennea said.

As they approached the well, Tier pulled his sword and dogged Seraph's heels again. Hennea had a wolf at her side - Jes sometimes became one of any of a number of predators when the mood struck him.

It looked like any other well to Tier. A three-sided building, much like a smaller version of the smithy, protected the well from weather and dust. A stout mud-brick wall ringed the wellhead about waist high on Tier. Before they came quite to the well, Jes put his front paws on the lip of the well and growled.

"Good," said Seraph. "It's there." She turned to Hennea. "I'll do the fire; you can deal with the mistwight."

Hennea usually held to her serene mildness under all circumstances, so the edge of fierceness that touched her smile surprised Tier.

"It's always nice to have plans," she said.

The wall of the well wasn't high, but neither was Seraph. Tier lifted her from the ground to the top of the well wall with a hand on each hip. He steadied her until she was stable with one hand on the post that held up the roof.

She gave him a quick, distracted smile for his help, then looked into the dark hole. Perched flat-footed on the old wall, she had to dip her head a little to avoid hitting the roof.

She was magnificent.

Her moonlit-colored hair was caught up in an elaborate crown of braids that he'd seen other Traveler women wear. Until this past month, she'd always adopted the simpler styles of the Rederni. The braids suited her, he thought. She was wearing Traveler clothing, too: loose trousers and a long loose tunic that hit the bottoms of her knees.

Hennea was beautiful, but Seraph stirred him more than a woman who was merely beautiful ever could. She had such inner strength that he was sometimes surprised by how small she was. He'd once seen her back down a roomful of angry men with nothing more than the sharpness of her tongue.

Watching her as she quivered with eagerness, like a fine hunting hound awaiting the horn, he was struck with a sudden, wrenching understanding.

This was his wife, his Seraph, who'd given up everything she was to escape from the endless battle her people fought against things like the mistwight. She'd married him hoping that it would keep her out of battles just like this one. Oh, she said now that it was because she loved him - but he knew Seraph. If she had not dreaded returning to the duties of a Raven, she would never have accepted his offer of marriage.

He'd always felt that he'd helped to save her from something terrible, but she didn't look like someone who needed rescuing.

She held her hands palm down over the well: tension flowed up her body from toes to fingertips, and the sharp, sparkling feeling that was magic brushed over his skin in an uneasy caress. With a hollow boom that shook the ground he stood upon, flame boiled suddenly out of the well in a searing wave of destruction. The roof caught fire first, then the walls of the sheltering building, the frail strands of weeds that surrounded the well house, followed an instant later by the post Seraph held on to.