Free her instruments 02 - rose point by m c a hogarth

through clothes... surely air was only a step more advanced. To send and receive thoughts without touch... that bordered on magic, but acceptable magic.
    To be able to turn minds on and off without touch...
    To kill without touch...
    He had very little to vomit, but he turned to give it to the rug and lay there, exhausted and crushed between two bodies, one warm and one cooling, and thought back to tales of Eldritch mind-mages. Tales, passed on like fictions. But if he could do this, then what were the chances that Corel had been a myth?
    Corel, who had killed an entire army with his thoughts.
    Corel, who had died only because he turned his power on himself.
    Corel—who had been insane. And who had not started out that way.
     
    Reese was still climbing when a wave of nausea swamped her, so strong she staggered and then sat abruptly to put her head between her knees. When the feeling passed, she hesitantly lifted her head and found Ra’aila crouched in front of her, worry in her teal-blue eyes.
    “Okay now?” the Aera asked, quiet.
    “Yeah,” Reese said and swallowed. “Yeah. But something’s gone really wrong. We have to hurry.” She got up, accepting the Aera’s help, and glanced back. “Wait, where are the horses?”
    “We left the camp behind a long time ago,” Ra’aila said. “Don’t worry, I told them where we were going, and I’m marking the trail. They’re pursuing their own leads.”
    “And you’re following mine?” Reese asked, touching her stomach in the hopes it would stay calm.
    “They can trust technology,” Ra’aila said. “I’ll trust intuition.” She grinned. “It’s gotten me this far.”
    “Onto a world that instantly erupted into civil war,” Reese said.
    “I’d call it more civil unrest,” Ra’aila said, tail swishing once. She offered Reese her canteen; when Reese didn’t immediately drink, she mimed her ears flattening.
    Reese laughed. “Wait, you have ears to flatten at me.”
    “So don’t make me,” Ra’aila said, smiling. “Drink, Captain. It’s dry out here and we’re doing a lot of exercise.”
    “Fine,” Reese said. She was careful with it, though, not sure whether it would stay down; fortunately Ra’aila didn’t push. Reese had heard many things about the Aera, but few would have called them a compassionate people; they had other strengths, but their culture didn’t breed mercy for weakness. She found Ra’aila’s matter-of-fact concern affecting, and a lot easier to deal with than fussing would have been.
    “Now...,” the Aera said once Reese had finished drinking. “Where do we go next?”
    “Right. This way,” she said, not knowing how she knew and no longer caring. She heard every pulse of her heart like a drum, urging her on, faster. With Ra’aila following, she headed on, putting one foot in front of the other. Between her aches from the long ride and her lack of conditioning, it had become true labor, but she kept going.
    With every heel she wedged into the uncertain orange dirt, she thought about Hirianthial. For most of her life she’d read books with Eldritch in them; they were a common offering in her monthly romances, because it was hard to beat an actual mysterious race to serve as a fictional mysterious love interest. That the Eldritch as a species were commonly held to be attractive by every race in the Alliance was a bonus that made them nearly irresistible to writers. But the qualities that made them wonderful daydream material were infuriating in person. Hirianthial kept his past to himself, along with most of his opinions; discussed his emotions not at all; was frustratingly beautiful, graceful, strong and sounded wise most of the time. It made her want to beat her fists on his chest and demand he be wrong about something. Or get angry in a small-minded, petty, mortal way.
    And then he’d dipped into her mind and in less than a few minutes put together everything that bothered her and motivated her, and made the mistake