Hardt still had his hands up, frozen to the spot and awaiting whatever judgement was thrown our way. But Tamura… Tamura was no longer watching the men; he was staring at me. I met his eyes and he nodded just once. There is a ruthlessness to Tamura. He may seem to be little more than a kind, crazy old man, but he is more capable than most people I have ever met, and he is fiercely protective of his own life. The lives of others mean little to him when his own lies in the balance. I think we are all that way to some degree. I know I am.
My fingers brushed against the Kinemancy Source hidden in the snuff pouch and I snatched it into my hand, slowly raising it to my lips. I popped the little crystal into my mouth. Nobody seemed to notice. The two men in front of us were still arguing, and the one behind was focused on Hardt. I tensed my throat and swallowed, feeling the Source start to slide down and almost catch. I gagged a little then but managed to swallow it.
The feeling that comes with a having a Source in my stomach is intoxicating. It's more than just power, though I will admit to enjoying the sense of power it gives. There is a feeling of being connected to something that I cherish. For Impomancy it is a connection the Other World and all the horrors and wonders found there. For Pyromancy it is a connection to fire and ice and all the things in between. For Kinemancy it is more like a connection to myself, to my own mind. The tutors called it psychokinesis, the ability to creates waves of force as an extension of oneself.
I saw Tamura grinning at me, knowing what I had done. I think Hardt was still unaware, I believe he still hoped to settle the situation without violence. I look back now and think he had the right of it. Those men were not soldiers, nor bandits trying to rob us. They were just woodsmen, hunters who stumbled across three strangers wandering in their woods. I think I could have handled it better. But I have always been one to lash out first and use diplomacy only as a last resort. That probably says a lot about my brief stint as a queen.
Looking over my shoulder I saw Deryl, the man with the bow, still watching Hardt beside me. His eyes flicked to me for just a moment. I grinned at him. I sometimes wonder if, in that moment, he knew what was coming. Luckily for Hardt, I was quicker.
All it took was a flick of my fingers and an invisible wave of force hit the man's bow, knocking it sideways just as he loosed the arrow. I suppose it was lucky he was standing just a dozen feet away; I have never had the range that some Kinemancers do. He shouted out a warning as his arrow disappeared into the trees. I turned back to the others and pushed out with both hands, putting as much force as I could into the blast. The other two men were quite some distance away and much of the force had dissipated by the time it reached them. Much, but not all. The wave that hit them sent the fat man careening into a tree and the older one rolling in the needles scattered about the forest floor.
"Eska, what are you doing?" Hardt's objection was only on his lips; he made no move to stop me.
I am the weapon.
I spun around on sure feet, just as Hardt had taught me to only a week earlier, dragging my right hand through the air and sweeping a wave of force with it. The blast hit Deryl like a moving mountain, crushing him against a nearby tree even as he fumbled for a second arrow. There was no mistaking the sound of cracking bones, nor the splatter of blood. Any force strong enough to splinter a tree is strong enough to kill a man.
Even with my head swimming with power I took a moment to consider what I had done. Deryl's body was half embedded in the tree, a broken and bloody mess. The sight reminded me of Isen, of what Josef had done to him. I think it may have been the same for Hardt, maybe that was why his voice cracked.
"Eska?"
If any of them get away, they'll turn you in.
"You think I don't fucking know that?" I hissed the words under my breath, but Hardt still heard them.
When I turned back to the others, I could see the fat huntsman lying on the ground, shaking his head and struggling to get his arms beneath him. The older man, the one with the grey in his hair, was up and running already, dashing between trees as he tried to get away. I launched after him, flinging my arms backwards and letting loose a wave of force to give me some momentum.
Tamura was already moving towards the fat huntsman and I trusted the old man enough to leave the job to him. I went after the grey-haired one, the largest of the three men. For just a moment, I questioned why I was chasing him, asked myself if he was still a threat to us with his two friends dead. But Ssserakis' whispers had lodged in my mind, convinced me that the man would warn any others he found. Before long the Terrelan army would know where I was, and they would not rest until I was either recaptured or dead. I set my mind to the grim purpose and crashed headlong through the forest, chasing, even though I could barely see my quarry.
It had been a long time since I had last sprinted through a forest. When I was a child I didn't care about branches slapping at me or needles poking into the soles of feet. But as I chased that woodsman through trees that passed as little but green-brown blurs, I found a lot had changed. I resented the constant need to shield my face from low hanging branches, and more than one toe stubbed on roots almost convinced me to give up the chase.
Eventually I lost sight of him and slowed to a stop, doubling over as I fought to fill my lungs. Sprinting is very different to running and I was no longer used to either. Somewhere in the distance, behind me, I heard Hardt shouting my name. A beacon to guide me back to my friends. I straightened up and took one last look around the forest, trying to spot any sign of the old man. There was nothing; no sight nor sound, and I have never been very good at tracking. With a weary curse I turned towards the sound of Hardt's voice.
He's here. Close. My thought or Ssserakis', I'm still not sure to this day. But it was Ssserakis' strange power that convinced me it was true. I could feel the woodsman's fear.
I moved slowly, careful to make each footfall as silent as possible. I concentrated on the feeling of fear. It is hard to describe; not a scent on the breeze, nor a sound. Not even something I could see. But something I knew was there. An impression left upon the world by strong emotion. Ssserakis drank the fear in and I felt new energy in my tired limbs, a strange sense of tension as though my body needed to move. Keeping still was difficult.
Either I was still too new to the power, or Ssserakis was still too new to sharing my body. Maybe it was a little of both. I could feel the old man's fear, but I couldn't place it. I couldn't find it. I couldn't find him. That is why I startled when he stepped out from behind a tree just in front of me, an axe already swinging towards my neck.
There is no doubt in my mind that I would have died there if not for Hardt's training. My body was already moving, while my mind was still cursing my poor luck. I ducked underneath the swing and swept a hand, releasing a wave of force that took the man's legs out from under him. Then I stood and brought both hands down on his chest, complete with another kinetic blast. He died instantly; his chest caved in from the force.
So fragile. So easy to break.
"Shut up!" I snapped, my voice high with fear and shock. I stood there, staring at the body of the grey-haired woodsman for a long time. I'm not sure if it was the impact of my magic or the collision with the ground that killed him, but he died with his eyes open, staring up at nothing. And there was no doubt about it, his death was on my hands. There wasn't much blood, just a trickle from the corner of his mouth. I thought there would be more, but not every death is a bloody one.