Dame Viren stared at me for a moment, and then in a show of impressive decorum, silently turned her horse and kicked it into a gallop.

  I goaded my horse out from the forest’s edge, creeping into the open. As expected, virtually all the lizards were now on alert, and they were cautiously approaching the forest. They likely hadn’t determined how many of us there were, so they had not yet decided to pursue. Now that Viren had left, once I turned tail the creatures would no doubt make chase.

  I was glad I had taken a proper look at the mountainside earlier. There was a considerable volume of snow remaining further up, which meant my stupid idea had a chance of working. Assuming I could put it into action, that is. In any case, they would likely come after me soon, so I needed to act while they were still well-positioned beneath the slope.

  I quickly removed my gloves and rubbed my hands together. I might need to do this multiple times for it to work if it was going to work at all.

  Sound and movement were sort of the same thing, and as such, you could often turn one into the other. Anyone who grew up near snow-covered mountains like this could tell you the story of how their grandfather’s uncle accidentally set off an avalanche by coughing too loudly.

  Of course, I needed more than an accident. Neither Helian nor I had done something like this before, which was a bit of a problem… how to visualize something invisible – let alone manipulate it with magic – was a question I had struggled with before. Given the amount of time I had left to act, I decided there was no choice but to experiment.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I closed my eyes, and clapped my hands as loudly as I could. The high-pitched crack echoed dimly off the exposed cliffside, the rest of it gently absorbed by the nearby snowpack. Moments later, I heard it echo back from the ravine to the south.

  Hmm. Perhaps the answer was to visualize something I could see. Sound bounces off things, after all. If the snow weren’t here, that would help, but getting rid of it would be counterproductive, even if I could do so. I was never good with fire.

  I was tempted to open my eyes and check on the lizards, but I had a feeling I knew what I would see. Better to keep them shut and remain focused. What kind of space would make a sound the loudest? An amphitheater? Or perhaps an echo chamber. The latter seemed better, but for some reason I couldn’t clearly visualize what one would look like, so I settled on the concert hall I last visited with Helian to see the philharmonic. It needed to be bigger… but not so big that I couldn’t imagine how it would look or sound.

  I clapped my hands once more and felt my blood run cold. Well, at least that was a sign the magic was working. And as the echoes resonated, I could tell that it was working as I had intended. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more; the snow refused to move.

  But what would more look like? What would it sound like?

  A warm hum. Wires glowing dull orange within clouded glass. Shining steel. A loud pop as metal contacts metal. Sound builds, and sound flows through something other than air, as something other than motion.

  I clapped my hands one last time, and the ear-splitting crack, amplified beyond my comprehension, made my ears ring. I felt blood run from my nose, and as a rumbling sound erupted from the mountain to my west, I was thrown from my startled horse and tumbled into the snow. My vision faded.