He’d gone perhaps half a mile when he caught sight of a darker patch against the evening gloom, surrounding what looked like the flicker of a fire. Gripping the pack straps, he started for it at a run. He hadn’t gone far, though, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a horse galloping behind him. Turning, he saw a woman on a black horse coming down the road toward him. Glad to have the river between them, he hurried on. But suddenly the hoofbeats were much, much closer. Glancing back, he saw that she’d somehow gotten across and was gaining on him, accompanied by two large dark shapes loping along ahead of her. A quavering, hooting call went up—one Alec recognized with horror. He’d heard just such a call the night Thero had been hunted by a dra’gorgos. He ran for his life. The cries grew louder and he thought he could hear hollow, crazed laughter.

He was within a few yards of the portal when he felt a terrible chill at his back. Something clutched at his neck but he reached the dark, wavering portal and threw himself through. Before he could get up the dra’gorgos was on him, reaching for his heart. Instead, it found his amulet and silently disintegrated into nothingness before his eyes. Another distant, hooting hunting cry drifted to him on the breeze. Rolling to his feet, he kept running until the ground went out from under him and he was falling, tumbling, rolling over rocks.

He came to rest on his back, a bit stunned but alive. As he lay there he suddenly realized that he was looking up at stars in a clear night sky. The dra’gorgos was gone, and there was no sound of hooves pursuing him. Gravel crunched under him as he climbed to his feet and looked around. He’d somehow fallen into a dry riverbed. He hadn’t broken anything, fortunately, though he was certain he’d be sporting some new bruises tomorrow.

At least I’ll live to see tomorrow, he thought with a grin of profound relief.

The riverbank wasn’t very steep, and he climbed up without too much trouble. As he reached the top, he looked up and saw a town nearby. Or rather, the ruins of a town—broken walls, scattered stone. This was the place the shepherd boy had led them to, where those soldiers had died horrible, unexpected deaths.

He stood a moment, staring at it, then slowly turned around full circle.

The dry river.