The hillside was rocky and uneven, and cut with little rills. His broken arm ached as he jolted over the rough ground. The grass was brown and the sky was cloudy, just as Alec had described. By the time Mika finally reached the river road he was tired, hungry, and very thirsty. The town was still a long way off and even though the road that ran along the riverbank was smooth, he felt like he was walking up a steep hill. It grew harder and harder to keep putting one foot in front of another. He fell and cried out in pain as his arm jerked in the sling. He managed to get up after a moment, though it was an effort, went a little farther, only to fall again. His stomach cramped, his tongue felt swollen in his mouth, and he hurt all over as he forced himself up again. How many times had he told his mother he was so hungry he could die, when all he’d wanted was a sweet? He wondered if this was what it really felt like.

I could die.

The thought brought him to his knees again, wishing with all his heart that his mama was there. Or better yet, Master Thero, who’d saved him from magic once before. Tears ran into the corners of his mouth and he licked at them in desperation, but they were salty and only inflamed his terrible thirst. Try as he might, he couldn’t get up, or keep his eyes open any longer. With a choked sob, he curled up in the dust to die alone and far from home.

Thero and Seregil watched in disbelief from different ends of the corridor as Alec disappeared into thin air. Seregil went white, but before Thero could say anything something horrible oozed into being where Alec had disappeared. Made of smoke and as large as a dog, it floated in midair, wisps of it curling on the air like sea grass. It hung there for a moment, then flew at Seregil too quickly for him to avoid it and wrapped itself around his head and chest, bearing him to the ground. Seregil struggled, screaming; Thero had never heard him scream before, not like this.

“Avah! Aravah! Arasaaavah tula reso!” Thero shouted, frantically searching his pockets for something to bind it to, all too aware that he had no protection this time. He found a small red river stone Mika had given him and held it up. “Avah! Aravah! Arasaaavah tula reso!”

The black cloud lifted from Seregil’s motionless body and was on Thero with impossible speed. It lifted him into the air and blood flew from the wizard’s arms and chest as invisible blades or claws raked him, cross-hatching the healing marks of the last attack, for this certainly was the same monstrous thing he’d released from Sedge back at Mirror Moon. Searing pain blossomed across his left cheek and his forehead.