Chapter 1

1: The Monster in the Woods

“Five again,” Ainya said.

She shook her bone dice in her loosely closed fist and then studied them when she opened her hand, cupping the dice in both palms to make sure she didn’t drop them where they could be crushed beneath the horses’ hooves. The rattling noise plucked at Tarquin’s already frayed nerves, but the distraction was better than thinking about the dying shareblood they’d left back in the village. Or what the villagers told them had attacked her.

“Three and two or four and one.” Ainya let out a deep, thoughtful breath before she finally tucked the dice back into one of her belt pouches. “The number of transformation. I know it means something.” She looked at Tarquin with her night black eyes, obviously waiting for his reaction.

“Maybe it means you need new dice,” Gretta said. She grinned when Ainya arched an eyebrow at her.

“Is it about Faladir?” Tarquin asked Ainya, trying not to hope too much as he watched his breath drift away on the midwinter air.

Ainya shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said sadly. “I wish I did.”

“Me, too.” Tarquin managed a nod of thanks, despite his disappointment. He absently patted Hop’s shoulder, running his fingers through the mare’s shaggy fur. Hop bobbed her head as if she appreciated it.

Tarquin, Ainya, and the shield Gretta rode abreast, so close together their legs touched, with Tarquin in the middle. It wasn’t the easiest way to ride, but he was happy for the frail bit of warmth and sense of protection.

It was very cold. It had gone full night while he’d tried to help the shareblood, and the woods on either side of the road were as dark and silent as the deepest part of a cave. It reminded him of the Kawj, which only made the oppressive black more unpleasant. The three of them had cast simple hearth magic spells for light, but the little glowing balls seemed as useless as embers against this much darkness. Tarquin kept glancing right and left anyway, looking for a glimpse of gray scales among the trees. “Do you think it followed us?”

“No,” Ainya said with gratifying certainty. “The matriarch said the creature her grandchildren saw was skulking around the animal pens. If it’s hungry, it’ll be more interested in snatching a chicken or two than coming after us.”

“What about the firuback in the village?” Gretta asked. “I doubt the monster was hungry when it ripped off her wings.”

Tarquin shuddered. “Maybe Ainya’s been rolling fives for the monster.”

“Oh, I hope not. I reallyhope not.” Gretta turned to look at the forest the way Tarquin had. The old winter-stripped trees stretched thick as a wall on either side of the road.

“It still sounds like a haldur,” Ainya said, as if the word hurt her mouth. “Only haldur are cruel enough to rip out a firu’s wings. It was their favorite torture during the war.” She released a breath that hissed through her teeth. It burst into ice in the air. “They liked leaving them alive afterwards.”

“They said it was too small to be a haldur,” Tarquin said, and he was grateful for that. The haunted look in Ainya’s eyes was horrifying enough.

“The haldur are gone. Burned to greasy ash at Telir,” Gretta said with relish. She’d fought there with Ainya. “The farmers said it was some human-sized, likely male gray thing with a tail. That doesn’t sound like a haldur. Haldur are hermaphrodites. It sounds like some sort of vyr.”

“The number of transformation makes sense if it’s a vyr. Vyr change their form from human to animal,” Tarquin said.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything at all,” Gretta said, but her gaze still searched the woods.

“There were five villagers who stopped us to ask for our help,” Tarquin said. Not that he’d been able to give them any, in the end. Nothing he tried had eased the poor shareblood firu’s torment. The girl never stopped screaming.

“Then there were the five siblings, and the rooster and four hens in the village. And my dice, don’t forget,” Ainya added. “It means something. I can feel it.” She ran her hand over her close-cropped hair. The thick black curls were dusted with snow.

Tarquin leaned forward in his saddle to look at Ainya. “Maybe all the transformation stuff is because it’s some kind of vyr thing.”

“I don’t know what it’s for yet,” Ainya said.

“You’ll find it.” If Ainya said something was a portent, then it was. The only question was if the portent would lead to anything good. The gods were capricious enough to render any fate uncertain. Tarquin was painfully aware of that.