Free The Naming by Alison Croggon

it holds."
    Cadvan picked up his sword and waited, tense. Maerad felt the power outside build. It gathered at the weakest part of the barrier, the join; like an evil black blade it tried to force itself into Cadvan's mind. He fought back, his jaw set, the sweat starting on his forehead, and Maerad watched him with mounting anxiety. The voice built to a crescendo, an unbearable pitch of sound, and then suddenly came a noiseless explosion, a burst of black light, and Cadvan rocked back against the wall with a grimace of pain. But the barrier still held. The wers could not enter.
    Then came a sound Maerad disliked even more: silence. The wers were regrouping.
    Cadvan put down his sword and rummaged through his pack. "Drink something," he said. He passed her the bottle that contained the herbed drink. "Now we must be vigilant."
    "What for?"
    "Anything. Anything at all. Sit with your back to the fire. Try to remember that this tower is roofless. The only way they can get in now is from above. The fire will daunt them, but not enough."
    Maerad grasped her dagger in her hand and sat next to Cadvan, straining to listen. She could hear nothing but theblood in her ears. Dread rose in her heart until she almost wished something would happen, anything, anything to break this horrible suspense. She stole a look at Cadvan. He looked almost serene, his face relaxed, his eyes watchful. She took a deep breath.
    They sat in this silence for what seemed like hours. Every now and then Maerad moved to ease the aches in her body, but Cadvan never stirred.
    "Maybe they've gone away," she said at last. "We've heard nothing for ages and ages."
    "Ssshhh," Cadvan hissed. "The only thing we can be sure of is that they haven't gone away. Listen."
    "But there's nothing to hear."
    "They will wait. They want our wills to weaken in fear. They feed on our fear. It's their life, their bread. Starve them! Send your mind out into the night. Use the Gift you have. Send it out into the night. Then you will hear."
    Maerad wondered what he meant. Perhaps she should . . . Experimentally she gathered up her mind and imagined it past the walls of the guardhouse. At once she felt cold, although she still had her back to the fire. It was as if she had stepped outside, although she could see nothing but the opposite wall. But she heard the slow flapping of wings, wings of creatures that she could not imagine, wings without feathers, taloned and heavy, and heard hisses, as of cold breaths drawn in and out of cold, leathery bellows.
    "Wings," she whispered. "But giant wings. It's not bats, or it's bats as big as wolves."
    "Yes. They are close. The barrier will not hold them. I cannot make it high enough."
    "But I can't see anything, Cadvan, I can't see anything." Maerad turned to him, her eyes wide. "They're so big, I can hear how big they are. What are we ..."

"Silence!" Cadvan turned with the fury of a snake. "I can't be patting your hand like that of a terrified child. If we are to get through this night with our hides in one piece, you must remember who you are. You are one of the Gift. Grow up, or we will die here."
    Maerad swallowed. Cadvan was preoccupied again, taking no notice of her, listening and watching, his sword in readiness. She took a deep breath and pushed back the terror that had started to take hold of her mind, winding its way through her muscles, insidious and cold, like a poison mist. Her heart was pounding, but she forced herself to relax. She held her pitiful dagger in her hand. It seemed so small. She wished she had a sword and knew how to use it. Perhaps then she might feel more like a warrior. She sent out her mind again, not knowing what else to do, and heard the winged creatures, farther away now, higher up. They were flying to the top of the barrier. What was the barrier made of? She didn't know, but they were going to fly over it and down on top of them. She knew that now. Instinctively she stood up, and saw that Cadvan was also standing,