“Apparently I am to find the demon tusker.”
The scar in his cheek whitened. “She sent you to die?”
“I hope not.” Mala trusted the goddess hadn’t. “Have you faced it?”
“Yes.”
“And lived?” Perhaps it wouldn’t be as difficult a task as Mala feared.
“Barely. Many of the men I fought with did not.” His gaze searched her face again, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, and Mala realized that he was stopping himself from forbidding her to go. He must have realized that she would, anyway. “Keep away from it, if you can. No blade or arrow can breach its hide and I’ve seen warriors cut in half by a blow from its tusks. Find some way to kill it from a distance.”
Mala didn’t intend to kill it, only to tame it. But she wouldn’t explain now. “Where will I find it?”
“It usually comes down from the mountains when the goddess turns her back.”
During the new moon—and the next was almost a full turn away. “Then it seems I will be in Blackmoor for a while. Perhaps I’ll see you again, warrior.” She hoped to. “Who should I ask for if I wish to find you?”
Eyes like stone, he took a full step back from her. “You would do best to say you have never spoken to or helped me.”
Perhaps. But she didn’t like that he retreated from her now, so she would see him again. “I don’t always do what is best. I only do what must be done.”
Kavik didn’t immediately respond. Instead he looked to the wagons when a hail came from that direction—the caravan was preparing to leave, and Mala still needed to give the salve to Telani and her injured boy.
He drew back another step, his gaze still on her. “Don’t drink or bathe in any of the rivers and lakes beyond the maze—they’ve been fouled by the demon. You’ll only find safe water in the wells dug in the city and villages.”
So that was why he would need the wineskin full of it. Mala didn’t. She would not always be in the city or villages if the beast was in the mountains, but she didn’t travel without protection. “Whilst I quest, Vela will bless and cleanse it for me.”
Though only if Mala asked. And if she was foolish enough to drink without asking, then she would get what she deserved.
Eyes like stone, Kavik shook his head. “The goddess has abandoned this land.”
“I am here, warrior.”
“That only means it is almost the end,” he said, and his voice was that of a man who did not dare to hope anymore. He only braced himself for worse. “Try to avoid the notice of the warlord.”
Lord Barin? Mala would not be able to do that, either. “Why?”
“You’re strong.” His dark gaze lingered on her features. “He’ll want you—or he’ll want to break you.”
The man standing before her was strong, too. But she wouldn’t ask now how Barin had tried to break him. They’d meet again, and perhaps Kavik would tell her. “He can want all he likes. Only I choose who will have me. But I thank you for the warning.”
He nodded and, after a final look at her face, turned away.
Curse it all. She called after him, “Are there markings to guide me through the maze?”
It didn’t matter if there were. Shim could follow the path. But she wanted the warrior to look at her like that again, with that strange combination of hunger and bleak torment—because she might understand why he looked at her that way if she could hold onto his image a little longer.
“You don’t need markings.” He bent to his saddle and slung the bloodied tack over his broad shoulder. “Just follow the bones.”
CHAPTER 3
Mala could follow the bones all the way to Lord Barin’s citadel.
Beyond the maze, the bones no longer littered the ground, but they stood in the people on the road to Perca who watched her with wary eyes. They stood in the fallow fields and the sagging walls of the crofters’ huts. They stood in the thousands of bowls and vases set out to catch the rain, and in the desperate faces of the children who quickly backed into the shadows and alleys as Shim carried her into the city.
This was a land stripped bare, with hope carved away. Mala’s mother had once told her that Krimathe was the same in those months after the Destroyer had passed through their lands. But Mala’s home had recovered. Blackmoor had not, though it had obviously once been strong. Mala could see those bones once she reached Perca, too—in the high walls surrounding the city, the wide roads, and the heavy stone of the city’s fortress. They had all been built to last, by careful planning and knowledgeable hands. Now the flesh was gone, and the skin stretched over those durable bones was thin.