Anaya felt bad for denying Harpyn’s request. For one thing, she could see how badly he wanted to learn. He’d dedicated his whole life to pursuing magic, and that pursuit had been cut short by circumstances beyond his control. And he was right. When it came to battle, he was pretty much helpless unless she or Brugo defended him.

Still, she held fast to her belief that the Makara magic was not something she could just give away. In addition, she was having problems of her own.

Ever since they’d spotted the man with the lightning sword, her divining rods had been acting quite peculiar. She didn’t dare draw them out for fear that they would put the three of them in danger.

But from within the fabric of her pack, she could feel the vibrations of the rods and more than once they had gotten hot enough to make her uncomfortable. She feared that they might even catch the fabric aflame if she wasn’t careful. Now that they had the sword in their possession, the rods seemed even more intent on freeing themselves, as if feeding off the energy of the ancient relic.

As they walked, the sun sank lower in the sky, bathing the long road in a dusky glow. Up ahead, Anaya could see the edge of another wooded area, the path winding straight toward it. She hoped that once they had some cover, she could sneak away into the woods and take the rods out of her pack. She had been formulating a plan all afternoon. The last thing she wanted to do was alarm Brugo.

They walked until the cover of trees blotted out the last of the sun’s rays and then Brugo set about finding a camp site. To Harpyn’s relief, he finally allowed for a small campfire, and he even managed to snare a rabbit for supper. There wasn’t much talk as they sat and ate. They were all weary from the day’s events, and Anaya suspected that they all had plenty of unanswered questions about the sword.

When she could wait no longer, Anaya excused herself to the woods, assuring Brugo and Harpyn that she would be right back. The two men shared a concerned look, but seemed to think better of asking any prying questions. If they had, Anaya had already prepared a lie about womanhood, but it wasn’t necessary.

Slipping away through the dark trunks, she walked until the glow of the fire was just barely visible at her back. Then, she settled herself in a small clearing and emptied her pack on the ground.

The rods fell onto the wet leaves, making a rattling sound as they vibrated angrily amid the debris. In the darkness, they glowed a deep golden color, lighting Anaya’s face and giving off a comforting warmth.

“I wish I knew what any of this meant,” she said to herself, reaching out her hand to brush a finger over the rod.

Although it was warm to the touch, it did not burn her. She picked it up, curling her fingers around the handle experimentally. She grasped the second rod in her other hand, watching them as she knelt in the still woods.

The broken rod made a feeble wave in her hand, but the other swung back and forth, seeking something Anaya could not know.

She stood, eyeing the rods for a moment before taking a few experimental steps in the direction they pointed. With each step, she felt certain she was being led toward something dangerous, something powerful. Whatever it was, it made the rods act erratically in her hands, sometimes jumping and tugging her along whatever path they had locked on.

Planting her feet, she came to a halt. Behind her, the camp fire was now too far to be seen through the woods. If she went any further, she wasn’t sure she could make her way back. Besides, she wasn’t going to follow the rods without backup. She’d only wanted to examine them and make sure everything was okay before she went to sleep, afraid that they might spontaneously combust or something. Now, she was assured that she could rest and follow their path in the daylight.

But when she turned to head back toward camp, she was astonished to find the pair of ethereal harpies blocking her way. They flapped their wings slowly, hovering just off the ground, their dark eyes leering at her. The one on the right let out an awful screech, rushing at Anaya suddenly and causing her to stumble backward.

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Anaya caught herself on the broad trunk of a tree and watched the harpies cautiously. They took up position again, their wings forming a sort of shimmering barrier between the trees.

“What’s this all about? You have to let me go back,” she said, trying to keep her tone reasonable. She didn’t want the things to know she was panicking on the inside, although she doubted she could keep much secret from them. After all, she’d begun to suspect that they were a part of her in some way.

They stared at her impassively, refusing to budge.

“Come on, let’s go. The others will worry,” she tried again, waving one hand to shoo them out of the way.

The harpies ruffled their feathers, flapping indignantly at her, but they remained in place.

Growing quickly frustrated, Anaya planted her hands on her hips, the rods still buzzing angrily at her as she did so. She glared at the harpies and tried to focus all of her energy on dismissing them. She’d done it before, right? She’d sent them away when she needed to be inconspicuous. But now they wouldn’t budge. They remained stubbornly present even when she put everything she had into banishing them from the physical world.

Narrowing her eyes at them, she decided that she’d had quite enough of their antics. Ignoring the tug of her divining rods and the angry protests of the harpies, she marched forward, determined to make it back to camp with her companions. Whatever it was that the magic wanted of her, it could wait until she was properly rested.

Just as she was about to push through the translucent wings of the harpies, they let out an ear-splitting scream and dove at her. Claws tore at her and feathers beat at her face, blinding her. She threw her hands up to shield herself, breaking into a run. But the harpies were fast and their cries filled Anaya’s senses, leaving her disoriented as she tried to run.

She tripped, hitting the ground hard. The breath whooshed out of her lungs and she gasped for air. The harpies were upon her, tearing at her brand new dress, shredding the soft yellow fabric and drawing blood from the skin beneath.

Anaya rolled onto her back, squeezing her eyes shut and trying her hardest to remember her grandmother’s magic words. She’d done it before, back in the magical forest outside of the mage tower. She’d called upon the ancients and sent a burst of white light searing through the darkness, scattering the creatures that had stalked her then. But this time, her words were failing her, and she was left writhing on the ground, pleading for help.

The sound of boots crashing through the woods spelled relief. A moment later, Brugo burst into view, following briefly by a haggard looking Harpyn. Brugo’s axe was in his hand in an instant and he roared something indecipherable at the attacking harpies before swinging wildly at them.

There was a moment of stunned silence as his blade swept straight through the ethereal beings. Their bodies burst with light, only to reform a moment later as if nothing at all had happened.

The creatures turned on Brugo, defiant shrieks rattling the limbs of the trees with their ferocity. Anaya lay forgotten as the things launched themselves at Brugo, deftly avoiding each arduous swing of his heavy axe.

Anaya scrambled to her feet, wiping blood from her eyes and panting. She looked around the ground for the divining rods, certain that she’d flung them away during the attack. They had to be somewhere on the leaf strewn ground.

A strange sound cut through her frantic searching. Anaya looked up just in time to see Harpyn running toward Brugo, glittering sword held high over his head. Crackling bits of lightning burst from the sword’s tip, sizzling in the air before he brought it down toward the pair of harpies.

The creatures were so focused on Brugo, they didn’t have time to dodge Harpyn’s attack. As the blade made contact, a thunderous boom shook the ground and the whole forest lit up with the blinding flash of lightning.

Anaya stood stunned, her vision filled with white spots and her ears ringing. Slowly her vision cleared and she saw Harpyn standing over Brugo, the sword still clutched in his hands, and his whole body quivering.

Brugo was laying on the ground, clearly shaken, although he appeared unharmed by the explosion. His axe lay in the dirt, forgotten as he sat up in a daze.

“Is everybody okay?” Anaya asked, looking from Harpyn to Brugo with concern.

Harpyn let the sword fall to his side and stared at it in wonder. Brugo merely stared straight ahead, making no move to stand up or regain his axe. It wasn’t until Mabel emerged from the pouch of his apron and crawled her way up onto one of his tusks, her long whiskers wiggling as she sniffed at him, that he seemed to come back to life.

He turned to look at Anaya and then at Harpyn. “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with all this,” he said grumpily. “Where there’s magic, there’s bound to be trouble.”

It was Harpyn who finally turned to Anaya and said, “Are you going to tell us what happened?”