Aragged cloth hung between the tall stone pillars at the head of the bridge. The frayed edges flapped in the spring wind, the snap almost drowned by the rush of the swollen river below. Whatever message that had once been written across its fluttering length was lost; the ink—or blood, more likely—had long since faded. Only a trace of the runes remained.
It mattered not. Mala could guess what the sign had said. She only had to look beyond the bridge and the message was clear. Turn around, fool. Death lies in Blackmoor. Or perhaps, Beware the beast!
Bones littered the roadside beyond the river. Rags still clung to rib cages, the limbs rived from their torsos and scattered by animals. Wagons lay in splintered ruins—but only on that side of the bridge, as if the travelers had been attacked as soon as they’d crossed over . . . or, if they’d started out from Blackmoor, attacked before they could escape the cursed land.
But if the beast that Mala had been sent here to tame had slaughtered these people, it hadn’t been recently. No flesh remained on the bones. The splintered wood from the wagons was pale and weathered. Surely the beast didn’t wait on the other side—and surely Mala’s quest wouldn’t end so quickly. Of all goddesses, Vela was the most generous, but she wasn’t the most kind. Those who completed their sacred quests and received Vela’s gifts usually endured far more pain than Mala had on her journey thus far.
So that pain still awaited her. When Mala crossed the river, it would soon find her.
She was ready to meet it.
Her companion didn’t seem as eager. Stamping the ground with one massive hoof, Shim tossed his head and snorted, the sound heavy with discontent—obviously unhappy with their destination now that he’d seen it. The bones wouldn’t disturb him. The big Hanani stallion had killed more than a few men during their travels, and he cared little for humans in general. More likely, the stallion’s disgruntlement sprouted from his stomach. Lush spring grass blanketed the valley behind them. A barren waste lay ahead.
Mala rolled her weight back in the saddle and loosened her posture, so that if Shim decided to buck her off and be done with her, she wouldn’t hit the ground so hard. “If you don’t like the look of it, you can stay here while I press forward.”
She couldn’t mistake the derision in his snorted response, as if his opinion of her brains had plummeted when she’d uttered the suggestion. Grinning, she patted his muscular neck. Her fingers came away covered in coarse hairs. His heavy winter coat had been sloughing off in patches since they’d trekked out of the mountains, leaving reddish brown clumps along their trail. He needed a thorough grooming, she needed a flagon of dark ale, and neither of them would get what they needed while tarrying here.
As if Shim had come to the same conclusion, he started forward. On the bridge, Mala kept a wary eye on the river and her right hand on the pommel of her sword. Even if the beast she sought didn’t lurk in the rushing water, many other creatures made their lairs beneath the surfaces of rivers and lakes. She bore scars from encounters with several.
If any beasts with stinging tentacles or poisoned jaws waited here now, however, they weren’t hungry. Nothing stirred as the clap of Shim’s hooves crossed the stone bridge and became a rhythmic thud against the hardened ground. Safely across. Still, Mala kept her sword arm ready.
A more somber land she’d never seen. If the valley behind them had been scooped out by a loving hand and seeded by a gentle breath of wind, the terrain ahead had been clawed out between sullen hills and stamped flat beneath an angry boot. Leaden clouds piled overhead. A chill breeze scraped across slabs of protruding stones and skimmed the back of her neck. With a shiver, Mala drew the hood of her heavy red cloak forward. Only this morning she’d considered shedding her winter leggings, but this land seemed to shun the sun. She would be wearing her furs a while longer.
The silent road stretched south through the barren flats. By midday a drizzle began to fall, and she hadn’t seen another living being aside from a crow and the biting gnats that plagued bare skin.
At least the rain chased away the gnats. Pushing back her hood, she asked Shim to stop. Better to eat now than before the drizzle worsened.