“Sounds good. Where is it?” She dipped bread into her gravy.
“The entrance is above the tree line, behind a boulder shaped like a sitting dog. You’ll see it as you emerge from the forest. We keep supplies in the first alcove on the right, and from there, you’d have a clear line of sight to the entrance. That is, if you can still shoot an arrow straight?” Nick’s mouth twitched in a grim smile, his scar tugging at the corner.
“Of course I can, assuming I get out of here alive.”
“Well, yes.”
A big assumption, given the beasts downstairs and their infamous bloodlust.
§
Marlies sat up in bed, nerves jangling. Something had woken her. She cocked her head, but couldn’t hear anything. The stench of tharuk slunk into her room. Slipping out of bed and into her boots, she snatched up her dagger and positioned herself behind the door.
A floorboard creaked. Someone shuffled along the hall. Then light footsteps came bounding up the stairs.
“Oh, there you are, sir,” Nick’s voice echoed down the corridor.
A low growl made the hairs on Marlies’ arms rise.
“The kitchen’s along this way, sir. I apologize, I know this place is a terrible maze, but you’ll get used to it eventually.” Nick was prattling like a typical innkeeper, distracting the beast. “Wait until you see what we have on the menu—eggs, chicken, fried potatoes. I can make something else if you’d like.” Although his light footsteps were accompanied by heavier ones down the stairs, the stink still lingered.
No one would be safe until these beasts were destroyed. If she escaped, what would they do to Nick and his family? She couldn’t have any more innocent deaths on her conscience. Marlies pulled the creaking window open and tossed her rucksack outside. Palming her dagger, she opened the door and slipped into the hall. She made her way to the top of the stairs and slid noiselessly down the wooden banister. As she landed, the tharuk spun. Marlies ducked under its slashing claws and plunged her knife into its throat. The tharuk slumped to the floor.
Another tharuk barreled down the hallway. “You!” it snarled, red eyes glinting as it raced after her.
Flinging the taproom door open, Marlies called to Nick, “Take your family and flee.” Fangs! There was another one in here, sleeping. Marlies raced through the room. The beast lumbered to its feet, springing at her. She flung a chair through the window, spraying glass, then vaulted onto the table. The tharuk swiped, snagging its claws on the edge of her cloak. She yanked the fabric free, ripping a corner, and jumped out the window. Shaking the glass off her rucksack, Marlies grabbed her bow and quiver.
The tharuk thrust its pig-shaped snout out the window, grasped jagged glass shards and broke them off. Gripping the ledge with its claws, it surged out.
Marlies ran.
The snarling beast pounded after her.
She plunged into the forest. Growls ricocheted among the trees. What had she been thinking? She’d be dead in no time. Legs and arms pumping, Marlies raced. There, that knoll—if she could get a little height she’d be able to shoot. Scrambling up the hillock, she turned, nocking an arrow, and shot. Too wide. She nocked again. This time her arrow went through the tharuk’s eye. Its roar cut off mid-bellow and it fell, black blood gushing over its snout.
The third one would be on her scent at any moment. Marlies fled up the slope, bashing her way through bushes until she found a trail. Roars echoed from below. It was coming.
§
One underling was dead and another was barging through the forest to head off the dark-haired female. 458 shook its head and roared. There were better ways to deal with humans. It hacked the hand off the dead underling, tattooed wrist and all, and tucked the hand into its pocket. The tracker stomped along the hallway. The innkeeper chose that moment to step into the hall. Perfect. Grabbing the innkeeper in a throttle hold, the tharuk squeezed.
The man’s eyes bulged with fear and his throat gurgled.
“Hah, little human. You were hiding the woman. Who is she? Where is she going?”
“Don’t know.”
“No, I don’t know.” 458 tightened his hold. “But you do.”
The innkeeper’s face grew pale, and his eyelids fluttered. Although the angry burn in 458’s blood demanded quenching, killing this cur was not the answer. The tracker slackened his grip, so the man could speak. “Talk, or your children will die.”
That worked. The man squawked, “I—I’ve never seen her before. I have no idea where she’s going or who she is.”
458 dropped the human and ran outside. There was only one way over these mountains: the female would be heading for the pass. 458—swifter than other tharuks—raced for the mountainside. It couldn’t track its quarry because it hadn’t been able to scent anything since three days ago, when up in the pass, that dragon had burned its snout. Stinking dragon scum.
§
Clutching his aching throat, Nick raced to the kitchen, croaking for Urs. His son appeared, an axe in his white-knuckled grip.
“No, Urs, don’t fight them. This is only the beginning. More will come. Esmeralda and the littlings are shoving supplies into the cart. Go, harness the horses. We’re leaving.”
“But those—”
“Just go.” Nick indicated his scar, the thick rope that had tugged at his face and throat. “Quick! Go!” Urs knew what tharuks had done to him and Urs’ mother, Lisa, his deceased first wife. May her soul soar with departed dragons.
Urs ran out the back door.
Nick wrenched a board off the pantry wall and retrieved his pouch of coins. Ducking into the bedrooms, he snatched up an armful of quilts and ran to the stables.
Urs was fastening the last harness. “Da, I found that woman’s horse, and sent it back to Lush Valley.”
