All seemed lost as I faced the villagers, with the sound of the Huryl horses behind me. I looked about wildly for a way out, and my eyes rested on the tall treetops that surrounded the village on two sides. If I could make it back into the forest with Fynn, we could escape. I could call for Ruella, maybe she would hide us. She had no love for the soldiers, it seemed. My palm burned fiercely and I began to hear whispers carried on the wind. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the sounds around me, focusing on the voices. The spirits were gathering. I could sense them. Opening my eyes, I could see them in the village. The flames of the torches a few villagers held, the tall buckets of rainwater that sat at every door, even the grass and the trees all held spirits who were watching me. The wind whipped at my face and it felt as if hands were caressing my skin. I had all the help I need to make my escape.
The Huryl soldiers came pounding into the village, and I spun around to face them. Commander Mattis was in the lead, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he noticed me standing there. I thought I saw Jakob behind him, the young man’s eyes wide in astonishment. I held up my marked hand as a plan formed in my mind.
“A wall!” I called to the spirits.
The water rushed to obey, rising up in great pillars and encasing both me and Fynn. The villagers fell back, exclaiming in surprise. The water swirled around us, but I could see through it. Mattis made a gesture and a few soldiers rode forward. They pressed against the water and tried to shove their way inside.
“Wind!” I pleaded. “Keep the soldiers out!”
The wind picked up, swirling the column of water in an impassable vortex and forcing the soldiers to go back to their commander. Many of the villagers had fled in terror, and I turned to Fynn. Placing my marked hand on the wooden post, I summoned the fire spirits to burn it to ashes. They eagerly did so, although I could sense their discomfort at being so close to the water. I crouched next to Fynn and placed my hand on his forehead, willing my strength into him. He raised his brown eyes to look at me, and I thought I saw some of his old spark returning. He smiled weakly.
“I told you to run,” he whispered.
My head was swimming and I dizzily rose to my feet. I helped Fynn to his, although he was still burdened by the chains around his wrists. Thanking the spirits, I asked them to guide us to the forest, and the pillar of water vanished. The wind died down and the remaining villagers fled to their homes. I saw John and the elder watching me, John with blazing fury in his eyes and the elder almost sympathetically. I put one of Fynn’s arms around my neck to steady him and we began to walk to the forest.
“Take her!” Commander Mattis cried. “Kill the man, but take the girl!”
“Please,” I said softly. “Protect us.”
All the spirits leapt to obey my command. The fire spirits danced on the swords and arrows of the soldiers, turning the metal red-hot and the arrows useless. The water spirits permeated the clothing of the soldiers until they were heavy with moisture. The air spirits danced around their heads, pushing them from their horses and turning their helmets around. The ground itself kept the soldiers from moving, thanks to the earth spirits who heard my command. The chaos that ensued would have been comical had I the energy to watch. Mattis yelled commands while fighting to control his own animal.
Among the insanity, I lead Fynn away from the village and into the forest, where I hoped the Faerie Queen could help us both. We walked in silence among the trees, Fynn leaning heavily on my shoulders. I felt as if I were going to collapse any second, but knew I could not. The Huryl army would be after us, once the spirits finished toying with them. We had to be safe before they had a chance to find us. When I could no longer hear the noise from the village, I stopped and both Fynn and I collapsed to the ground. The chains on Fynn’s wrists clanked loudly, and I winced.
“Leila,” Fynn whispered.
He looked horrible. His skin pale and his face sunken. His hair was dirty and ragged, and his clothing torn. I could see the hole where the arrow had entered his back, and saw that the shaft had been snapped off by the head was still in his skin. I thought the pain must be unbearable, but Fynn betrayed no signs of discomfort, other than the heavy weight on his arms.
“The iron,” he said softly.
I reached out to grasp the chains, but quickly drew my hands away as the metal burned my skin. I gasped and fanned my hands in the air to cool them. Fynn watched me warily but said nothing. Ignoring the pain, I reached out again and opened the crude lock. It was nothing more than a clasp, easily opened for someone who was not wearing the manacles. As his hands slipped free of the chains, Fynn pushed them aside as if they were poisonous and took a deep, ragged breath. He leaned against the tree, his eyes closed, and for a moment I was worried he had died.
“Fynn?” I asked cautiously.
He opened one eye and tried to smile. “They’ll be after you now, more than ever.”
“Who?”
He closed his eyes again. “I’ll protect you.”
I felt something wet in my hand and turned to see the gray wolf had stuck his nose in my palm. I patted him on the head and he wandered a few feet away, turning back to look at me knowingly. I glanced from him to Fynn, who appeared to have fallen asleep, his chest rising and falling lightly. The woods would soon be crawling with Huryl soldiers, and maybe even with angry villagers. Should I leave Fynn behind to follow the wolf? I was so tired, and frightened of the power I had displayed in the village. I could hear the spirits more closely now, as if they were inside my head instead of whispering from the trees. I shivered and wondered what was happening to me.