No True Way by Mercedes Lackey

at the
wyrsa
’s backside sent it running to the underbrush, keening in pain. It took one look back, just long enough to see that it was quite alone and both Companions were coming for it, then disappeared into the forest. Sorcha gave chase as Torin came back to guard the twins.
    Milla was still clutching the burning log, ready to fight, when Sorcha returned.
    :It’s gone. It escaped. I don’t think it’ll be back now that it’s alone.:
    â€œOrun. He’s hurt.”
    Torin pressed his long forehead to the boy’s brown hair, and a soft glow surrounded them. Milla felt the sympathetic pain in her arm and leg lessen and fade into an itchy sensation. Orun looked up and smiled wanly. Despite the healing, he was still pale under his tanned skin. “We survived.” He sounded as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.
    Milla matched his smile. “We did survive.”
    :These aren’t
wyrsa
.:
Sorcha’s mental voice was filled with revulsion.
:They’re some sort of demon that look a bit like
wyrsa
.:
    Milla and Orun looked at each other.
    :Explains why there’s no poison in Orun’s wounds.:
Torin walked over to look at the body Sorcha was examining.
:Camouflaged to look like
wyrsa
?:
    :I think so.:
    â€œWhy?” Orun watched the Companions, rather than his sister, who was examining his arm. Unlike the scratches on his leg, it wasn’t completely healed.
    Torin shook his head, silver mane flying in agitation.
:I don’t know. These are blood-fed demons. That means the Mage who called them is still out there.:
    Sorcha flicked the body she had been looking at into the underbrush with a gore-spattered hoof.
:And one got away.:
    â€œWas it coming for us?” Milla wrapped Orun’s salve-covered arm with strips of cloth torn from one of her underskirts.
    :Coming for the Mage talented. I don’t think for you two specifically. However, now that it knows there are four of us, if the Mage attacks again, he’ll summon something bigger, I fear.:
Sorcha returned to the fireside.
    â€œThen we’ll be ready for it.” Orun looked determined as he held his bandaged arm. “We’ve got no other choice.”
    *   *   *
    They pushed hard for two days, stopping only when they reached a defensible Waystation. The twins, unused to being in the saddle all day at a full run, were exhausted by the time they stopped. Knowing that something was hunting them—that it could, and would, attack at any moment—was as draining as their physical exertion. No uneasy dreams troubled their sleep. They were too tired for that.
    On the morning of the fourth day, Milla looked around. “I think . . . I think we’re all right. I think we’re going to make it. I don’t feel the darkness.”
    Orun shook his head. “I don’t know. We saw it for so long.”
    â€œWe saw two paths. And we fought off the attack. I can’t feel anything anymore. Fate is only written in the wind until it’s the past.”
    :The Mage knows you are Chosen now. He could be shielding.:
Torin shook his mane.
:He could be readying an ambush.:
    Milla scrunched her face up in a scowl. “Why do you say such things?”
    :Because we must, Chosen.:
Sorcha’s mental voice was gentle.
:It is the lot of a Herald to be in danger.:
    â€œBut we saw two paths. Are we destined to fall to darkness?”
    :Destined, no. But it is likely. Herald-Mages have many hard duties. There’re so few of them now, with so much to do.:
    :And now we know why.:
Torin’s anger washed over them all before it settled back into its usual determined feel.
:That is our first duty, inform the Palace.:
    â€œI wish we were Farspeakers.” Orun sighed. “Then we could tell them now, and not have to worry about that, too.”
    Torin snuffled his hair.
:If you knew who to contact, we could bolster you, but . . . :
    â€œIf wishes