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The horse stumbled momentarily as the rocky soil beneath it gave way in a shower of sand and pebbles. Ginsook clutched Nahbee’s reins tightly. She wished she’d had time to saddle her properly. Instead, she gripped the horse’s neck, mane, reins, and anything she could to keep from falling off. Normally, when Nahbee felt the tug of the reins, she would stop instantly; however, this gallop was far from normal. Ginsook and Nahbee were being chased by … things. Things so gruesome and violent that neither would stop running until they were safe—or dead.
Once she had regained her footing, Nahbee straightened up, chose a more solid path in the gravel of North Pass Road, and let her rider reseat herself, all while maintaining her gallop in the dark of the cold autumn night. For the hundredth time since speeding from her village, Ginsook thanked the gods for Nahbee. Horses were rare in the Froze Waste—especially in the mountains—but to have one this smart and strong as her work animal was truly exceptional. Nahbee, she knew, was the only reason she’d managed to escape the village. Ginsook was also grateful that Tehdahl—the great moon—was full tonight. The bright moonlight lit the mountain pass like silvery daylight. The woman panted, making heavy clouds in the freezing mountain air, and adjusted the crimson blanket tied around her chest. The blanket and her silken robes were all she’d had time to wear; they were not much protection against the freezing air. On her back, secured by the soft, red blanket, was her most precious cargo—one that had to be delivered safely.
“Chebahl dowajushipshyo!” she prayed aloud, shivering with cold. She prayed to the Vessel, to Hanunim the god of Heaven—to any god who might listen. “Please help me!” She tried desperately to think only about clinging to the horse, keeping her cargo safe, reaching the top of the pass. Ginsook pushed away any thoughts of her village, now burned to cinders. She blanked out images of old women and children being casually ripped apart in clouds of blood and sloppily eaten by fanged monsters out of a nightmare. She emptied her thoughts of the retching stench of death and of the panicked screams of those who weren’t eaten as they were gathered in nets by large, dark lizards that walked like humans. She thrust out memories of enormous rock-like creatures tossing and shredding entire buildings as if they were made of paper then crushing sheep, goats, llamas and even horses beneath their boulder-sized feet. She put all these thoughts into a basket in her mind, closed the basket, then dropped it into a dark hole. Ginsook could not afford to be distracted from her mission.
As they careened around a rocky corner, the top of the North Pass came in sight. Just a few more of Nahbee’s long strides and they would be headed down into Hylan where at least they could try to find help, Ginsook thought with a desperate relief. Just a few more steps.
Darkness swept over them as the shadow of an airborne gnal covered the two. A hurricane blast of wind from the gnal’s flapping wings cut out all remaining light as both horse and rider choked on the dust and dirt swirling through the air. Nahbee had no choice but to stiffen her legs and skid to a quick stop, raising her shoulders to prevent her rider and cargo from being thrown off. Like one of the great worms from the ancient stories of Ginsook’s people, the gnaldescended from the sky and landed at the top of pass, blocking the road. In the full moonlight, the creature spread its huge black batwings and roared, nearly blowing Ginsook over with hot breath that stunk of rotting meat. She felt the roar in her chest as much as heard it, louder and more terrifying than a lion. Its teeth were the size of her forearms, hooked, sharp, and dripping wet with saliva as the glistening serpentine tongue flicked between them. The monster lowered its head and brought its darkened pools of eyes to stare directly into Ginsook’s. It drew a slow, deep, sloshing breath. Nahbee began to scrape her forehoof against the rocky ground as the horse and rider steeled themselves for a final onslaught.
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A brilliant golden light swirled into life behind the gnal amid a sound like the rushing of waters over a fall. It lit the nightmarish creature like the rising sun. The creature’s eyes widened, then narrowed in fury as it whirled toward the light. With a snicking sound, a glowing yellow blade protruded from the back of the gnal’s neck, swiping left, then right so quickly Ginsook almost missed it. The creature took a few stumbling steps backward, turned to face down the road. After standing still for a moment looking confused, its head fell off, tumbling bloodless down the North Pass Road to land at Nahbee’s feet. The gnal’s enormous tongue lolled loosely out from between saber-like teeth. Its neck was smoking and smelled like burning flesh. The horse backed quickly away from the gruesome sight, gravel crunching beneath her hooves. Above them the goblin’s body collapsed in a heap on the side of the road.
Ginsook was too shocked to move, she could barely breathe. Panting heavily, she tried to focus on the image at the top of the pass, lit brightly by the light of the great moon and dazzling blade held with both hands over its head. It was a woman, she thought. A large, mighty-looking woman standing in a pose she’d only seen in old paintings—blade high, back straight, eyes forward, stance low and wide. She was much darker complected than anyone Ginsook had ever seen before. Her hair was black laced with gray, tightly curled, and very long. She wore a twilight-colored cloak that might have been woolen, but if so it was finely woven with swirls of darker stuff forming patterns in the fabric. As she lowered the sword, the brilliance of it faded.
“Are you alright?” the woman asked in Glishtongue, her voice echoing loudly in the cold night air. Ginsook nodded. Her cargo squirmed under the blanket around her and let out a short cry. “Is that—do you have a baby?” Ginsook was too tired to think of how to respond in Glishtongue so she simply nodded again. “Well then get up here! We’ve got to get you to safety and quickly. The North Pass is about to become impassible.”
Cautiously, Ginsook nudged Nahbee forward until they were standing next to the woman. Ginsook wasn’t sure she could trust her; hidden in that basket she’d dropped in a hole in her mind was a memory trying to escape—a memory of a Glishman with a metal skullcap. A Glishman helping the goblin horde.
“I won’t hurt you, Child,” the woman told her more softly as they approached, her breath smoking in the cold moonlight. Despite the circumstances, her manner was unhurried and friendly. Up close, she was even taller than Ginsook had supposed, standing fully half again her own height. The Hahnwoman got a clear view of the sword she held casually in her right hand: it had golden hilts and a long silver blade. Her brow furrowed—the blade did not appear to be sharp, instead it looked like a long, thin box. Yet, she had witnessed it cut through the demonspawn’s neck as easily as a hot knife through soybean curd. She wondered at this marvelous weapon and where the wielder had obtained it.
The woman flashed a quick smile at Ginsook. “We must get you and your baby down to Hylan. I think I can protect you, but you must hurry. Come with me.” Her brown eyes locked onto Ginsook’s.
“My name is Gabriella.”