Caelia pushed up on shaking arms, searching for the glow of fire. All she could make out was shadow upon shadow, jagged shapes of trees against the pitted night sky.
She moved toward the strains, ear tipped toward them. The melody was lost to the wind. She shifted back, catching it again. Her reaching hands brushed up against bark. She cringed away, expecting something to grab her, teeth sinking into her neck.
She wanted to call out, but she feared making any sound might draw the beast. The threads wove together into a tapestry that tasted like a deep, cold well. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before. Like magic.
Suddenly, where solid earth should be, there was nothing. She threw her weight back, arms cartwheeling. The earth beneath her left foot crumbled. She slid, plummeting. A wild scream burst from her like a pot boiling over—it was out before she could draw it back. Her hands scrambled for something to hold onto, toes and fingers digging into the loose dirt.
She fell into hot, shallow water and gasped in shock. Had she fallen into the beast’s cookpot? Terror robbed her of breath and movement. But no, there was mud beneath her hands. A hot spring? Had to be. In that in-between moment, she heard something. The intake of breath like a bellows. The shifting of a heavy body. A splash. Her whole body froze in terror. Because whatever this was, it was huge, and it was coming closer.
She’d stumbled into the beast’s lair.
All her brave promises to kill the beast evaporated. She wasn’t a warrior. She was nothing more than a shadow.
Instinct took over. She scrambled, feet churning into the slope she’d slid down. Mud and loose soil crumbled beneath her. And something else. Something solid and fibrous. A root or vine. Fear gave her extra strength. She caught hold, braced her feet, and hauled herself up. One handhold. Two. Three.
Something hit her from below, sending her swinging. It had a hold of her dress. Whatever it was bumped against her leg. Her dress tore. The thing slid down, and pain erupted from her leg.
Teeth or claws, she wasn’t sure.
Spinning, she got her feet under her again and managed two more handholds. Whatever was below her hissed and snapped and writhed. But it did not climb after her. Another handhold. Another. She was going to make it. She was going to reach the end.
But her left leg wasn’t working right. It slipped and dangled, useless and heavy. Weakness spread upward, moving toward her hip. Her arms trembled with her weight. She tried to take another handhold, but her arms were exhausted. Her muddy grip slipped.
No. She couldn’t die. Couldn’t leave her family to place lanterns in the river, never knowing what had happened to her.
At some point, the music had stopped. Maybe they could hear her now? “Help!” she screamed. Her hands trembled. Her father would come. He would hear her, and he would come. “Please! I don’t want to die! Please!”
“Where are you?” a masculine voice called.
Hope surged bright and hot. “Here! I’m here!”
Wavering light appeared above her, illuminating a tree, the roots dangling bare over a sudden drop. It was one of those roots she held onto.
“Keep talking,” the voice called.
“I’m down here! I fell down the embankment!”
A face suddenly appeared above. A man peered down at her and then past her, his eyes widening.
“Don’t look!” he cried.
She looked. She’d always pictured the beast as a single creature, something between a man and a wolf. This was a nest of writhing lizards in a muddy pool, the biggest twice the size of a man. She’d fallen down an eroded embankment a story and a half high. She screamed again, clutching the root, her eyes closed tight.
“Easy,” the man said. “They’re not good climbers. You’ll be all right. Get your feet under you and pull yourself up.”
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “My leg won’t work.” Her right leg felt numb too. And her left side to her ribs.
He gritted his teeth and looked around desperately.
Her hands were growing tired. She commanded them to grip the root, but they weren’t obeying like they should. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”
“You will hold on!”
He pulled out a strange opalescent sword from his back, stripped off his baldric, and dangled one of the loops over a knot of wood where a branch had been broken off. Pushing his arm through the other loop, he eased down toward her. Loose soil rained down on her head, dirt stinging her eyes.
Dangling by one arm, his legs horizontal, he stretched a hand toward her. “Keep one hand on the root. Give me the other.”
She couldn’t catch her breath. “It’s not going to hold.” Those thin straps wouldn’t bear both their weight.
“It’ll hold.”
Below, a lizard climbed over the backs of its fellows and pushed off its tail. Snapping teeth came within a hand’s breadth of her foot. Panic wrapped its fingers around her throat and squeezed.
“What’s your name?” the man said softly.
“Caelia,” she panted.
“My name is Gendrin.”
She looked up into warm brown eyes. Eyes that reminded her of her father.
“Caelia, take my hand.”
The fist around her throat eased its stranglehold. Keeping her left hand on the root, she hauled herself up with her remaining strength. Her palm slapped against his, the mud making it slip. She fell back and dangled, dirt raining down on the lizards, which lunged and snapped. Above her, Gendrin swore.
She sobbed, her fingers fraying loose one at a time. The weakness had moved above her breasts now. She slipped, knowing it was the end. A shower of earth even as she fell, then a hand snatched her by the wrist. The same lizard as before—the biggest one, gathered for another lunge.
Gendrin pulled her up. “Grab on!”
She turned away from the lizard, not knowing if it would reach her, her weak fingers grasping his forearms. One hand on the root, his legs braced on the slippery slope, Gendrin strained to haul her up. The veins on his face stood out, a strangled groan slipping from his lips.
With her other hand, she pulled herself on top of his leg. His foot slipped, then held, muscles straining beneath her. She felt the lizard near, heard its jaws snapping over the place she’d just vacated. It fell back with a splash.
Gendrin let out an explosion of breath. “All right if I let go of you for a second?”
Balanced on his one leg, she nodded. He reached down, gripping her under her arm and hauling her up so her chest was even with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her hands at her elbows.
“Hold on.” He climbed up the embankment, setting each foot with care. His tunic was damp with sweat, his arms shaking, the vibrations shifting through his chest.
The numbness spread to her shoulders. “I can’t hold on.”
He stretched for his baldric. “You can.”
“My body—something’s wrong.”
He lunged, feet finding a foothold on roots. His left arm came around her, cinching her tight to him. Pulling and lunging, he hauled them up and over. She hit solid ground, her legs dangling.
He dragged her a few steps and then braced himself on his knees, panting. She tried to move, pull herself up, but her shoulders weren’t working anymore. Somehow, she could still breathe. Her heart still beat.