Page 75 of Lady's Steed

Avera liked to imagine it screamed as it went.

The suspended symbols disappeared, and Avera held her breath. Everyone remained crouched with heads bent.

Then the sobbing began. One person. Two. Their bodies shook as they wailed.

Not Gustav, he shook his head before raising a stricken expression to murmur, “I am so sorry, my queen. I swear I didn’t want to harm you.”

“Not your fault, Gustav. You were bespelled.”

“We all were,” Josslyn added, dropping the spade with a moue of distaste.

“What have we done?” Released from the mist’s compulsion, the folk from Herder’s Respite began lamenting their actions.

“Good people of Daerva, you must use this chance to escape,” Avera called out. “Leave. Quickly now before the mist captures you again.”

A woman with florid cheeks pursed her lips. “We’re far from home and it’s freezing outside. We’ll never make down the Spire to safety.”

“I can help with that,” Opal stated as she stood. “A spell of warmth will help you get off the mountain. However, you’ll have to move fast as its effect will diminish over time.”

“You’re the witch of the Spire,” a man spat, his jowly cheeks hanging on a face that was once fat.

“Guardian,” Opal corrected. “And you might want to watch the insults if you wish to escape alive.”

“Please. Help us get home,” a woman pleaded.

“Everyone, gather close,” Opal ordered.

When they’d huddled together, Opal closed her eyes and began weaving her hands while chanting. Strands—mere filaments really—of light began spinning from her moving fingers. They rippled lazily in the air before drifting to drape the townsfolk, wrapping them in a glowing web that sank into their skin and clothes, leaving them luminescent.

Opal kept weaving, her expression taut with strain. “Close your eyes while I tie it off. It will be blinding,” she warned.

Gustav did one better, he tucked Avera and Josslyn against his chest. Even then, the flash of brilliance lit up the inside of her eyelids.

Thump.

Avera opened her eyes to see Opal had collapsed.

“The witch is dead!” someone yelled. “She cast a death spell.”

“I don’t wanna die!” screamed another.

Agitated townsfolk started to push and shove as they moved for the exit.

Avera opened her mouth to stop them. Panic seemed ill-advised, given the stormy weather and treacherous terrain outside.

Gustav growled, “Let them go.”

“Shouldn’t I reassure them? They need to be careful, or they’ll cause their own demise,” she pointed out.

“Better a clean death than the one they’d receive below. Besides, can you blame their terror given what they experienced? At least some, if not most of them, will make it off the mountain, which is better than the fate they would have suffered if we’d not come.”

Avera bit her lip as she watched the frightened folk fleeing. As their queen, it felt as if she should have done more, but Gustav was right. If terror helped them move faster, then perhaps it was for the best. Who knew how long before the mist sought out the workers Zhos needed for freedom.

An audible groan led to Avera dropping to her knees beside Opal. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” grumbled the old lady. “I just need some rest.”

“How long will the heating spell last?” Avera asked as Opal pushed herself to a sitting position.