develop it.
The smaller boy, Nott, emerged in the distance, his pale face visible in the dark air. “Why can’t we do what we promised?” he was saying. “He doesn’t want us to look for this girl or his athame. He wants us to look for him. He’s the important one. He’s going to send us—”
“Stop telling me the same thing over and over, Nott. And stop whining. We will do what we promised! We’ll find our master, just after we find her,” Wilkin said as he appeared.
“Children?” John asked, able to see their size, if nothing else.
“Strange children,” Maud answered. There was something Dread-like in these boys’ motions, though they were loud in a way that was completely at odds with the behavior of a Dread. They spoke of their master. Who would that be?
Briac stumbled out of the barn, and all three headed for the burned-out training barn, which meant they were walking toward Maud and John and becoming more visible.
“Is that…?” John asked, straining to see details as the figures approached.
“Briac Kincaid,” Maud told him evenly. She knew how much John hated the man, how much he longed to fight Briac and punish him for what he’d done to John’s mother, and for what he’d done to John himself in denying him his training, but John was her student now and could not be distracted by such an emotion. “We will wait here to see—”
John was already moving, murder written on his face. He leapt from branch to branch as quickly as he could, barely grabbing one before he had dropped to the next. Maud saw him slip dangerously in his haste to reach the ground, but he recovered at the last moment, catching himself heavily on a lower branch.
Unfocused and disobedient! she thought.
She turned to follow, then stopped herself. The older boy, she perceived, had an athame at his waist. The butt of the stone dagger was sticking up from his trousers. The Young Dread held herself perfectly still, gathering her mind so that she might throw her sight farther than she was ordinarily able. She asked her eyes to summon all available light from the night sky. With a thrill of satisfaction, she felt her senses obey. The particulars of that athame became as clear as if she were holding it in her own hands. She saw the detail she sought: at the base of the grip was a small carving of a boar. A boar, the Young Dread thought. How curious.
Then she moved down the tree, swinging herself effortlessly through the branches. When her feet hit the forest floor, she was already running.
John was sprinting toward the three intruders. John! she called with her mind. Stop! But John didn’t stop, or even slow. During the time she’d been training him, Maud hadn’t managed to make any sort of mental connection with him, and she wondered if he were even capable of it.
He was nearly at the edge of the woods.
“Nott, weapons!” she heard the older boy say. They had spotted John, and they looked delighted at the prospect of fighting. Both drew whipswords and cracked them out into solid form.
Even stranger, Maud thought. They have whipswords and an athame, but are they Seekers? she wondered. She didn’t think so. Something about the boys was off. And then a moment later: Their swords are not right.
A memory came to her: she was training with the Middle Dread, long ago. She’d done a poor job fighting him that afternoon. Improve yourself quickly, he’d sneered, or maybe I’ll cut your whipsword in half. It looked as though someone had done just that to these boys’ swords. Was it a common punishment among Seekers? She’d never seen it before.
Maud caught up with John and ran beside him.
“Stop!” she said aloud. John must not attack other Seekers, or anyone else, while she trained him. It had been the first promise she’d demanded of him.
Yet he ignored her. His whipsword was in his hand, and his gaze was locked on Briac.
Briac finally noticed the two swift-approaching figures. He stood, frozen, muscles twitching, his mouth working without a sound as sparks gyrated across his face. He found his voice a moment later and yelled, “Strike the athame! Strike it now!”
When the boys did not immediately comply, Briac grabbed the athame from Wilkin’s waist. Wilkin snatched it back, and they struggled for control. Briac let go suddenly and instead pulled the lightning rod from its spot on Wilkin’s other hip. In one quick