“It is.”
Then unlike the revenants, the tusker wasn’t poisoned. A demon’s evil inhabited the beast’s flesh, instead, giving it terrible strength beyond its own. Because a demon had great power, but like a god, it needed flesh to use that power. Unlike gods, however, the demon didn’t work through the living or the willing; demons possessed dead flesh, which could give no consent—and could not withdraw it. After a demon inhabited a body, its corruption fouled all that it touched. The possessed creature could only be stopped if its magical protections were breached and the demon within slain, or if a sorcerer released it from the flesh.
For the first time since visiting Vela’s new temple and receiving her quest, real unease stalked Mala’s heart. She expected pain. She expected to be driven to the edge of her endurance. But she’d also expected to find an animal in Blackmoor, not an abomination.
Why hadn’t the goddess asked her to slay the demon? Such a dangerous and laborious task was well worthy of any quest. But to tame a demon? It would be easier to tame one of the thunder lizards in the southern jungles—if such a thing was possible at all.
But it must be, or Vela wouldn’t have sent her here. The goddess wouldn’t have given her a task that couldn’t be completed. Only those who doubted her or who proved unworthy failed their quests.
Mala wouldn’t fail. If she had to tame a demon, then she would tame a demon. “How long has it plagued these lands?”
“It is said that the demon was imprisoned beneath the fiery mountains to the north until the Destroyer released it from that prison and helped it possess the tusker’s flesh.”
Many evils were said to be the Destroyer’s doing. Often, it was truth. But that sorcerer was not responsible for every evil laid at his feet. “‘It is said’? You don’t remember?”
The lines in the old butcher’s face deepened, and his voice hollowed. “When so many evils come to your home at once, where they hailed from ceases to matter. It only matters when they leave.”
The demon tusker hadn’t left. But if Mala tamed it, perhaps she could send it away.
With renewed determination, she continued past the caravan, to where a brown horse lay thrashing on the wet earth. Another swing of her axe finished the grisly task. The rain was subsiding when she returned to the wagons. Those travelers who were not grieving or tending the wounded had begun to restore order to the train, and she felt their gazes upon her. Some appeared curious. Most were wary and wore an air of resignation—as if they wouldn’t have been surprised if Mala had only helped save them from the revenants so that she could destroy the caravan herself.
As if they had learned never to trust those with strength, or those who were supposed to protect them.
Including the warrior who had risked his life for theirs? But at least one person seemed to trust him. Mala paused at the edge of the barricade. Still on his feet, he was wading through the heap of revenants, a gore-covered saddle slung over his shoulder. So he’d gone in after his horse—and his sword. With a blue scarf now covering her yellow hair and a sling supporting her arm, the woman who had chased after the boy was offering him a large wineskin, but the warrior didn’t take it.
The woman thrust it toward him again. Her voice rose with frustration. “You will soon need this more than we will, Kavik.”
Kavik. He knew Mala stood watching; he’d spotted her the moment she’d come around the wagon. His gaze rested on her face for an instant before he shook his head and responded to the woman. Mala could hear the deep gravel of his voice, but couldn’t make out his reply.
But he’d clearly refused the wineskin again. When the warrior walked stiffly past the woman, striding across the thickening pools of blood toward the wagons, she determinedly stalked after him. “What harm will come to me? Lord Barin’s reach doesn’t extend past the river.”
This time he was close enough for Mala to hear his answer. “And your family? Your husband’s family? Even after you have gone, they will still reside in this land.”
All at once, the fight seemed to leave the woman. Despair and helplessness darkened her expression as she turned her face away, her jaw working as if she could taste the words she wanted to say, but knew uttering them wouldn’t make any difference.
The warrior looked to Mala again, but he came no nearer. With a heavy sigh, the woman brushed past him. Tears glittered in her eyes when she stopped in front of Mala and bowed her covered head.
“I am Telani, and I stand forever in your debt.” Her voice was thick. “My boy only lives because you helped us.”
All of these people lived only because of the man behind her, but Mala would not be so quick to reject the woman’s offering.