Her first instinct was to pull them all back out into the storm. She began to tug on Owen’s arm. 

“What is it?” he hissed at her. 

Before she could answer, a man she recognized as Crayton, the head tracker,  rose from his seat on a low stool. His expression had given way from surprise to a satisfied smirk. 

“Seize them!” he ordered. 

This was answer enough for Owen. He stopped resisting her and they stumbled back out into the rain. Before they had gone a dozen steps, however, the burly trackers had caught them. Kaz struggled against her captor as he dragged her back to the hut, her mind whirling. 

How had the trackers gotten ahead of them? It was clear that they had not spent the night in the inn after all. What would she and Owen do? How could they escape? Owen had managed to stun them once. Could he do it again?

She glanced over at him. He wasn’t fighting the man guiding him back to the hut, and Kaz realized that it was probably the most he could do to walk straight in this storm. She stopped fighting as well. Better to save her energy for when it would be better used. After all, now that the worst of her shock and panic had passed, she realized that they both had weapons the trackers didn’t know about. If only they could harness them enough to use them. 

“That’s right, princess,” growled the man holding her. “Just come quiet-like. There’s no point in fighting.” She turned her head away so he couldn’t see the slightly-hysterical grin twisting her mouth. 

A moment later, the trackers thrust her, Owen, and Devlin back through the door and shoved them forward until they fell on the straw-strewn floor in front of Crayton. Devlin whined and slunk under Owen’s arm. 

This time Kaz was able to take in more of the hut’s interior as her hands were bound behind her. It was rectangular, about the size of Owen’s family’s main room. There was a bunk bed against the right wall, a low table and cushions against the wall opposite the door. A fire crackled in a wood-burning stove against the left wall. Next to it was a cabinet and a few drawers, a basin, and a large, sturdy table. More cushions surrounded the stove, and a few low stools were strewn about the center of the hut. Crayton sat on one of them as if it were a throne. Two men she didn’t recognize hovered over by the stove. They had the slight, well-muscled build of messengers, the men who ran through the mountains to carry news, passing their messages to the waiting carrier at the next hut. From the steaming pot over the stove she guessed they had been making soup when they had arrived. 

Crayton leaned forward, smirking at them. Kaz did not know him well, but she knew enough. He had been a part of the empire’s army before he was discharged for mysterious reasons. Since then he had been a royal bounty hunter, sent after anyone who didn’t fulfill the empire’s expectations or pay its taxes. He had a reputation for being ruthless, clever, and almost supernaturally insightful. It was rumored that he could read minds. 

“Ñust’a Kazreena,” he said. “So kind of you to drop in. I knew you couldn’t elude us forever. I suspected you’d found someone in that miserable village to help you. Even you have to rest sometime, princess. And we knew you’d be along eventually, so we snuck out of that pathetic inn and came to the first messenger’s hut to wait for you. And see how the elements have favored us! My Lord Vidar will be most pleased when we bring you to him. But Kazreena, I’ve never known you to be so quiet. Tired from your journey are you? Aren’t you glad to see us?”

Kaz glared at Crayton, staring him right in his elegant brown eyes. “I have nothing to say to you Crayton,” she said with all the coldness she could muster. 

Crayton raised his eyebrows. “So you won’t talk to me? What about your friend?” Crayton’s disdainful gaze moved to Owen. “So it was the blind shaman’s son helping you all along. I should have known. There was always something strange about him and his story. Tell me, boy, what’s your name?” 

“Owen.” 

“And what were you really doing that far out in the wild?” 

“I really was on my vision quest,” said Owen. Kaz was impressed at how calm he seemed. She was beginning to know him better, and she suspected he was listening hard to get a better sense of Crayton. She wished him luck. She was too frustrated to read him with any accuracy, and all the more frustrated at herself for it. 

Crayton moved so fast she didn’t have time to shout a warning before he backhanded Owen so he collapsed sideways, unbalanced by his bound hands. Devlin dived at Crayton, growling, but Owen’s captor kicked him. The dog yelped and moved to hide behind Owen. Kaz couldn’t blame him. 

“Do not lie to me!” shouted Crayton.

Anger flared in Kaz, and with it the spark of her power began to awaken. She felt a tendril of lightning dance across her fingertips. Excitement leapt within her as her anger grew. Could she control it enough to singe away the ropes that bound her? Yesterday she would have been too afraid to try such a thing. Right now she was too angry to care. 

“He’s not lying,” she told Crayton. “Owen finished his vision quest two days ago.” 

“Oh?” said Crayton, tilting his head and regarding her with skepticism. “And why did it take so long for his element to choose him? Or is he just another Void-touched?”

“Does it matter? You have no idea what he’s capable of.” 

At this, Crayton laughed, and kicked Owen in the side. “Oh really,” he sneered. “He doesn’t look capable of that much right now.” 

At his, Kaz’s anger crackled higher, and she focused with all of her fury on the ropes around her wrists. She felt the electric tingle as a tendril of lightning flickered around her wrists. She smelled burning fiber and felt the rope loosen. She tested it. It still held, but it felt thinner. One more should do it. 

“I bet he could surprise you,” said Kaz. “Owen, why don’t you sing something for them?” 

“What?” said Owen, as Crayton and the other trackers began to laugh. 

“You’ve chosen a weak, blind, singer as your champion? Really ñust’a, I thought you had better sense. Is he really the best you can do?” 

Kaz smiled as though indulging their cruel amusement. “Give him a chance. I bet he’ll surprise you,” she said. 

“Oh,” said Crayton, a truly awful smile twisting his find-boned face. “Oh, but this is just too good. You love him, don’t you, Kazreena? I was going to kill him before taking you back to Vidar, but I’m sure he’ll want to hear exactly what’s so special about your new boyfriend.” 

Another flash of rage filled her. They would just cast Owen aside as though he was nothing! It didn’t surprise her, but it did ignite the lightning enough for her to try to fry her bonds again. This time she heard the slight hiss as the last tendrils burned. She was free! She kept her hands in place. She would have to time this carefully. 

“Very well,” said Crayton. “Help him up, Biltens. Festolo, would you grab me some of that soup? If we’re going to be entertained, we may as well enjoy it properly.” 

Kaz was sure that Crayton was only humoring her to toy with her. But she also knew that he had no idea what either of them were capable of. 

“What should I sing, Kaz?” asked Owen. From his carefully innocent question, Kaz knew that he understood at least part of her idea. 

“I was thinking something like what you sang last night,” she said, trying to sound offhand. 

“It’s a bit of a new melody,” he said. “But I’ll give it a shot.” 

“I appreciate it Owen,” she said, certain now that they were on the same page. “We want to thank these men for their hospitality, after all.” 

“Of course,” said Owen. He sat in silence for a moment, breathing deeply, and then began to sing. 

Kaz had not been in a mindset during the sweat ceremony to truly hear Owen’s voice. Hearing it now, she was impressed with its warm, resonant depth. It wasn’t as clear as the trained singers’ voices at the palace. But it also sounded somehow freer and fuller. 

The melody he sang wasn’t one she’d heard before. He sang without words, but the sound drew her in. She felt a stirring in her belly, something warm and somehow fierce, an answering flicker from Chukulla. The lightning leapt within her, but this time it didn’t overwhelm her; she felt that she could control it. 

Instinctively, she reached her hand over to grasp Owen’s. Though their grip was awkward, thanks to his bonds, he squeezed her fingers. 

The moment she revealed that she was no longer tied, Crayton jumped to his feet. “But how?” he said, staring at her. “Festolo, you were supposed to tie her.” 

“I did, sir,” answered the big tracker, returning with a steaming bowl of soup. He looked just as confused as Crayton. 

“Then how did you get free?” asked Crayton. He had stood, and was advancing on her. 

“Like this,” she said, smiling at him. She held up her free hand and focused on her lightning. The hut was lit by an enormous flash of lightning, followed immediately by an earth-shaking rumble of thunder. As if in answer, tiny tendrils of lightning played between her fingertips. 

Both Crayton and Festolo, who had lunged towards her, froze. 

“Vidar didn’t say anything about her being a mage,” said the tracker. 

“Of course he didn’t,” said Kaz. “He doesn’t know. “I only became a mage last night, so I wouldn’t trust myself to be able to control it too well. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” she lied, willing the tendrils to shoot towards the two men. She had only intended to intimidate them, but both yelled and sprang away as the lightning reached for their flesh. 

Owen’s hand squeezed her hand again. It’s angle had changed and Kaz glanced down to see that he had also managed to free himself of the ropes. There was no trace of them. She shivered. It seemed that his singing had managed to summon Ch’usaj. Now if they could somehow free themselves of the trackers without being destroyed by their elements, they might finally have some sort of advantage. 

Next Chapter: 24: Owen - Attack