Fog walkers flew through the air toward them, but as they neared the water, this time they flew up and avoided them, as if afraid. They circled overhead in a huge swarm, like bats, howling in frustration. Duncan felt a moment of relief as he realized Seavig had been right: they were, indeed, afraid of the waters. It had saved them from the swarm.

Finally, realizing they could not get close, the fog walkers let out a great howl and as one, the flock flew off, disappearing for good.

Duncan’s men raised their arms in the water and let out a shout of victory, elated. Duncan himself finally let down his guard for the first time.

No sooner had he done so when Duncan suddenly felt something slimy wrapping itself around his ankles, like seaweed. His heart slammed as he tried to kick it off. He looked down, studying the thick waters, but could not see what it was. It tugged at him, all muscle, and with a sudden yank, Duncan began to feel himself being dragged down.

He looked down and suddenly saw the water teeming, alive with thousands of creatures resembling sea snakes.

Shouts arose all amongst his men as one by one, on all sides, his men began to disappear, to get sucked down beneath the murky waters, to a terrible, terrible death.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kyra’s foreboding deepened as she rode across the soggy clearing, Dierdre and Leo by her side, wind and rain whipping her face, heading for the tavern beside the gushing river. She felt a knot in her stomach, sensing this was a mistake—yet she also felt unable to turn back. Rationally, Kyra knew she should follow her father’s advice, stay clear of people, stick to the road and keep the sea in sight until they reached Ur.

Physically, though, she was just too hungry, too tired, and unable to resist the impulse that was driving her out of the rain and toward warmth, shelter, and the smell of food. After all, Dierdre had a point: there were risks involved in not finding food, especially with Ur still several days away.

As they approached, there came more shouts of drunken men, louder this time. A few pigs and stray chickens rooted around outside its walls, and a shingle hung crookedly, swaying in the wind.

“What does it say?” Dierdre asked her, and she realized her friend was unable to read. That should not have surprised her, she realized, as most of Escalon could not. She had had a very special upbringing.

Kyra raised a hand to her eyes and struggled to read in the rain.

“The Inn at Tanis,” she replied, thinking how unoriginal a name it was.

This place, named after the river, looked as if it had been constructed from the forest clearing in a few days’ time. There came another shout, and Kyra tried not to imagine the crowd awaiting them.

“You’re lucky,” Dierdre said.