Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 412
Calandria’s arm, hoisting her into a fireman’s carry. "Bring the
stuff!"
Marya threw the cases into the survival bag and bent to
haul it after her. Axel didn’t look back to see how she was
doing; it took all his concentration just to navigate the
splintered branches and gouged earth around the ship. Finally
he reached untouched forest and toppled into a thorn bush with
Calandria on top of him. The singing pain in his head
continued, but not as strongly as it had right next to the ship.
Marya Mounce struggled her way across the obstacles,
the huge bulging sack getting caught on every jutting spar. She
seemed determined, her mouth set in a grim line.
She had nearly made it to the trees when a rain of white
light pattered into the loam right behind her. The ground
sizzled and smoked under it.
"Run!" Axel waved frantically at her. "Forget the sack!
Just run!" He knew she couldn’t hear him over the chorus of
the swans.
The rain intensified. It was like a funnel somewhere
overhead was pouring down liquid light. Where it landed, the
light coalesced, pulsing. The rain stopped abruptly, and started
up again farther around the clearing.
The glow it had left behind flashed brightly once, and
stood up.
Axel’s voice died. He was glad Marya seemed oblivious
to the thing behind her, because it would have paralyzed him
were he in her place. It looked like a man, but was entirely
made of liquid light. Long electric streamers flew from its
fingertips and head. As another such being grew behind it, the
first began to pirouette this way and that, like a dancer,
obviously looking for something.
Marya landed heavily next to Axel. The survival bag