Free Legend of the Ravenstone by M.S. Verish Page B

budge; the regularity of his snoring never broke.
    “Arcturus,” she said more urgently, applying pressure to his shoulder.
    There was a crack of lightning, and at last he grunted.
    Kariayla lifted her gaze to see the camp was now stirring.
    “Arcturus,” she repeated, and this time she pushed his shoulder more forcefully. Then she uncovered Whitestar and brought the glowing staff close to him. “You must wake up!”
    His eyes opened a sliver, his white pupils barely visible as she continued to address him. “There is a storm coming. We are going to have to take shelter—” The sky was split again by blinding rivulets of light, followed by a growing din of concerned voices and shifting of belongings.
    “A storm?” Arcturus asked groggily, but he was slowly coming to. He took hold of Whitestar and sat up. Just as their fellow travelers began to move, the fire suddenly flared violet and died. The camp had fallen into abysmal darkness except for Whitestar’s pale glow, and the staff’s light did not carry far. The wind began to cry and shriek. Their leader shouted for everyone to stay still, but his words were lost to the panicked voices of his followers, the whinnying of horses, and the growling of thunder.
    Amidst the chaos, Arcturus’s thick hand took hold of Kariayla’s arm. “The only enemy here is fear,” he said, his words firm but calm. “We must not lose our wits.”
    He’s right , Kariayla thought and focused upon the storm. Maybe I can help. Maybe this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Determined to act, she stared at the sky and concentrated on the energy driving the storm. I can try to shove it back and dispel the clouds. She tried gathering her own welling of energy, drawing the magic toward herself. The force, however, resisted her command; it was like pulling a mule that had planted its feet. She pulled harder, and in doing so, glimpsed the scope of her opposition. The storm has already gathered momentum—
    She gave a cry as a well-directed gust of wind swept her from her feet and cast her to the ground. Stunned and breathless, she lay on her belly. She had been overpowered—easily. Unable to respond to Arcturus’s calls, she watched Whitestar’s chalky light search the darkness. It was in the darkness, however, that she saw something else. A reflection—two luminous pinpoints. Her heart nearly stopped. Animal eyes. Fixed upon her.
    Kariayla scrambled to sit upright—just as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and froze, her heart lodged in her throat.
    “My dear!” Arcturus exclaimed. “What happened?”
    At first she could not speak, but then she calmed a little and voiced the first thought on her mind. “Whitestar—”
    “I could see no better with it lit,” Arcturus explained. “In fact, I believe it kept me blind. Are you all right? What happened?”
    “The magic from the storm,” she said, hesitating to mention the eyes. “It was the wind.”
    “Magic?” he asked. “I was beside you. The wind would have struck me as well.”
    She doubted the wind would have lifted him if it had struck him; it had been directed solely at her—a response to her intervention. “There is magic,” she insisted. “I felt it.”
    “I believe you, but—”
    A woman’s scream rose above the wind.
    Kariayla and Arcturus turned. Violet flames rose from the earth, spiraling in a vortex over the Humanlike form they enveloped. The flames were unimpeded by the wind, just as the figure was unimpeded by its fiery shroud. It took a step forward, and as it did so, two broad shapes lifted to either side of it.
    “Demon!” someone shrieked. “It’s the Demon!”
    And just as suddenly, the flames died, blackness left in their wake.
    “An illusion,” Arcturus murmured. “And now it is gone.”
    No, it’s not , she thought with a shiver. As her eyes adjusted, she could see that the figure remained. Without the flames, its presence was no less unsettling. White as bone were the