Evvy ignored everything after that. Using the quartzite stones, she flowed under the two monsters. They pressed on her power, making her feel dirty and small. She wriggled deeper in the earth and sped up. She wanted to see what was on the far side of the hill. Was it the imperial army, or just some mages trying to keep the Gyongxin forces here?
The ground over her head shook as the tiger and the horned lion jumped onto the road. They roared again, setting more grass ablaze. Some of her stones blackened and cracked. She passed under the hill’s crest and on to the flatlands past it. Weight pressed down on her, rock-crushing weight, as far ahead and to either side as she could sense with her power. It shifted slightly, back and forth. Some moved over Evvy as if it traveled toward the hill.
Swiftly she fled to her body, pulling her magic from the quartzite. Up she popped to resume her normal place within her skin. All around her the air boomed in her human ears with the gongs, the bells, and the deep, buzzing voices of Gyongxin mages. She opened her eyes. General Sayrugo’s eastern shamans now faced the horned lion and the giant tiger. Forming a line, they shuffled to and fro, striking gongs or bells and chanting. The noise made Evvy’s teeth hurt. It reminded her of the day other shamans had called two stone skeletons out of the cliff behind Garmashing. She wished those skeletons were here now.
The lion and tiger opened their mouths. They seemed to roar, but Evvy heard nothing. They were fading. Then they were gone.
Evvy’s head spun. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose. The weight on the far side of the hill — she had to tell someone about it. Only her stomach was angry, because of all the weight stamping on the stones as she had run her power through them. She opened her eyes and slid from the saddle, almost falling as Luvo’s weight dragged her down.
Rosethorn dismounted from her horse and ran to her. “Are you all right?” she asked. Swiftly she cut the silks that held Luvo’s sling to Evvy’s chest with her belt knife.
Evvy shook her head and turned aside so she wouldn’t splatter anyone. Then she vomited the little food and liquid she had swallowed that morning.
Rosethorn passed her a flask.
Evvy tipped her head back and poured a little bit of water into her mouth, rinsed, then spat. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then drank. “Sorry,” she told Rosethorn when she was sure she was done vomiting. “Sorry, Luvo. Rosethorn, we’ve reached the imperial army. They weigh tons. They’re crushing my stones over on the other side of the hill.”
Rosethorn reached over and patted her arm. “It could have been so much worse,” she said in an overly sympathetic way. “We could have made the wrong turn and fetched up in Namorn. Yes, we knew. The scouts brought the happy word to us.”
“I hate it when everything’s about to go to pieces and you’re all calm,” Evvy told her.
Rosethorn raised an eyebrow. “Would you like it better if things were about to go all to pieces and I turned into a ball of panic?”
Evvy wanted to tell Rosethorn she loved her, but she couldn’t, not among so many people. She stuck her tongue out at her instead.
The general beckoned for Rosethorn to come forward. Shamans from the western tribes joined the easterners ahead of even the flag bearers to form a line in front of the Gyongxin army. As Evvy watched, the shamans removed their shoes. Their helpers passed them flasks of tea. The shamans kept the flasks, tucking them into the front of their coats as the helpers sat cross-legged on the ground. From their packs they pulled out small drums or flutes.
Rosethorn came back at a trot. “The shamans say they will make it easier for us to survive going over the crest of that hill,” she explained as a helper began to strike a drum in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Other drummers and two flute players joined in, weaving their music with his. Rosethorn continued, “It’s something we can’t do, I assume, or they’d have asked us to assist. The general says we may be a little startled, but try not to make any sound.”
Evvy drew her amethyst from her alphabet. It was a good stone for calm. She turned the rough-cut crystal around in her fingers, drawing on the spells she had placed in the stone. Even with that magic, her hands shook.
The shamans bent to place sticks of incense in the ground in front of them. Thin trails of smoke rose through the air. Now the shamans danced, their feet shuffling in the dirt of the road. They dipped and turned, their movements snake-like and alien.
“Watch, Evvy,” Rosethorn whispered. “We may never see anything like this again. Lark is always telling me shamans can do things that mages can’t.”
Evvy clutched her amethyst so hard her fingers cramped. Shapes were forming in front of the mages. At first they were thin and almost see-through, like fine gray silk. Bit by bit they filled in. She saw a curved section of orange skin that slid around. There was a dark fang. When she saw hair like black flames, she covered her face. Rosethorn jabbed her with a sharp elbow, and Evvy dared to look again.
She wished she had not. Creatures not quite as gigantic as the tiger and the horned lion stood before them, but there were more of these. She recognized the four orange beings, with their flaming hair and ivory teeth and claws, from temple paintings. They each had six arms and hands in which they clutched weapons. With them stood six blue-skinned creatures with long, flowing, scarlet locks. They had long yellow claws on their hands and feet and full green lips. Each of them had four arms.
“I don’t see what good these things will do if the emperor’s mages can make bigger ones,” Evvy said as the creatures turned and glided up the hill. She glanced at Briar. He had turned the color of cheese as he stared at the shamans’ creations.