The villagers milled around, talking amongst themselves. She watched them through one half-open eye, feigning unconsciousness. Her jaw ached and her head throbbed. Some of the villagers were talking about who should get which item of clothing. Others were talking about how best to cook her.

Even if her own power hadn’t been dimmed by the chain that bound her to the frame, she doubted she’d be able to do much. Everyone down here was a sorcerer of some description, be they Necromancer or some other Adept discipline. They couldn’t have snuck up on someone like Skulduggery if they weren’t using the air to hide their approach, so there had to be more than a few Elementals around, too.

A scuffle broke out amongst the villagers. There were curses and raised voices, and then a man broke through.

“Mine!” he roared. The crowd came after him and he spun, snarling, “She’s mine!”

The crowd parted and the leader came forward. “We share our food, Josef.”

Josef shook his head. “You’re not in charge any more, Owain. I am. I’m leader. I say she’s mine!”

“And what about the Beast?” Owain asked. “Do you cheat the Beast out of it’s meal, too?”

Josef hesitated. “Beast can eat,” he said at last. “After I have fed!”

Owain narrowed his eyes. “You would anger the Beast?”

Josef faltered. “I… I need to feed… and I will! I am leader!”

Owain signalled, and a man walked up and handed him a heavy wooden club. “Then we battle. Battle for leadership. Like the old ways.”

“Yes,” Josef said, “like the old ways. Where is my weapon?”

“Bring Josef his weapon,” Owain commanded. Another man moved through the crowd, and handed Josef a twig.

“Um…” Josef said.

Owain whacked the club into Josef’s head, and Josef sprawled on to the ground.

“Cook him first,” Owain said. “Save her for later.”

There were protests from the crowd.

“But Josef’s scrawny!” cried a woman. “Not enough to go around!”

Owain sighed. “Fine. Cook Josef,” he said, then nodded to Valkyrie, “and we give the Beast one of her legs. Tonight, the Beast eats well.”

The crowd cheered.

Over the next few hours, they chopped up Josef and slow-roasted him over the fire. Valkyrie did her best not to look.

A shadow moved between the stone huts, steadily sneaking towards her. She closed both eyes, slowed down her breathing…

“Hello.” Someone nudged her leg. “I know you’re awake. You can stop pretending.”

She thought about it for a moment, then opened her eyes and looked down at him. He was thin and filthy, with long matted hair and a wispy beard. He looked to be in his early twenties.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

He looked wild, dishevelled, but otherwise harmless. “Valkyrie,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Baffle. How are you?”

“Not doing too well, to be honest.”