I approach the shaman’s hut, holding the talisman in my left hand. It is still on the cord around my neck, but I want to make sure it is prominently visible to the bonewalker inside. In my right hand I grip my staff.

I still ache everywhere, it seems. I pray that this bonewalker isn’t as challenging as the two I faced earlier.

The interior of the hut is black, and I can’t make anything out inside. I step carefully, craning my neck to find an angle that might reveal motion—anything!—from inside the hut, but there’s just nothing there.

Behind me, about 20 yards from the hut, Delkash waits with my pack. Rigi circles above in the air, sensing my anxiety and uncertainty. I try to send him thoughts of comfort and confidence, but he can tell it’s not sincere. I sincerely wish it was.

Another step. Another. I’m tensed, waiting for the bonewalker to rush from the house. The others were lightning fast, and I’m reluctant to get too close, lest I lose a chance to react to its charge. I begin to wonder what I’ll do if I’m unable to draw it out.

There is a clatter behind me, and I spin to see the bonewalker charging at me from a neighboring building, a rusty sword in one hand. I let go of the talisman and let it fall to my breast, while I struggle to adjust my footing to the new vector. Had it known I was coming? Had it planned this ambush, or was it just luck?

It is fast. I step to the side, raising my staff to block a vicious slash with the sword. I avoid the worst of the blow, but still feel a sting on my right side.

First blood.

The bonewalker overextended on that blow, I see, as it slows its charge and turns to face me again. I’m ready this time. I raise my staff and gauge the distance. With a shout, I charge at the monster myself, swinging with all the force I can bring to bear.

At the last moment, it steps aside and my strike passes through empty space. I lose my balance, stumble, and barely manage to avoid falling on my face. My heart is racing as I spin to locate the creature, wondering if I’m already too late to save myself. I’m terrified.

The bonewalker is upon me before I can do more than raise my staff, and only a lucky jump to the side avoids more blood being drawn. Still, though, the left sleeve of my tunic is torn completely off, and my arm stings from the shock. The creature slashes at me again, but I parry it and see an opening.

I strike again, desperately, swinging my staff hard and hitting the creature solidly on its left arm. Bone shatters and the arm falls to the ground. I only wish it had been the creature’s sword arm.

It comes at me again and presses me hard. I try to parry again, but it feints and scores a painful hit on my left thigh, where the other bonewalkers had injured me earlier. I cry out in pain and stumble to the side. My leg feels slow to respond, and is reluctant to bear my weight.

Fear blossoms in my breast, but I can’t give up, not now. My oath to apprentice myself to Hilda rides on this. I made an oath to Makari to find and return his grandfather’s spear. I try to brace myself as best I can with my wounded leg, but before I can do more than set my staff the monster is upon me, slashing again. By some miracle, the staff deflects the worst of the blow, but the blade snags on my left trouser leg and tears it free. I grunt in pain.

I fall back, parrying a hail of blows and praying my leg won’t give out on me. The bonewalker is vicious, and fast, and I don’t know if I can hold it off much longer—

Before I’m aware of what has happened, Rigi is there, diving between me and the bonewalker. He beats his wings against the creature’s face, forcing it back, but the bonewalker strikes out with its sword. Rigi screeches and I feel a burst of pain from our bond. The owl flies away, dripping blood. He’s hurt, I can tell, but alive.

I try to take advantage of Rigi’s distraction, but I’m still reeling. The bonewalker is upon me in a flash and I barely manage to spin away. I’m struggling to breathe; panic has me by the throat. I kick at the bonewalker with my good leg and manage to gain a little bit of space. Then, gritting my teeth, I raise my staff and strike downward at it as it approaches.

Another hit, tearing away multiple ribs and causing it to stagger. I feel a burst of hope that I might yet be able to defeat this creature and fulfill my vows.

Then it rushes at me, and I raise my staff to block the blow. The strike is devastating, ringing down the length of my arm, and when I look at my staff, I see it has been riven clean in two.

I have no weapon.

I need to end the fight. Now. I cannot continue with this. Time seems to slow down, and my thoughts go to the talisman around my neck. Why hadn’t the bonewalker retrieved it? Why would the creature leave it so unguarded if it was so crucial to it? Could it be that the bonewalker is actually unable to touch it? Might the sanctuary charm on it actually cause damage to such a creature of evil?

I drop my broken staff and reach into my tunic to pull the talisman free. I lift the cord from off my neck. Grimly eying the creature, I begin moving resolutely toward it, spinning the talisman over my head by its cord. The bonewalker backs up, suddenly uncertain, as I spin the talisman faster, and faster. Finally, with a shout, I release the cord and watch as the talisman flies at the beast.

The bonewalker dodges to the side. The talisman misses, and instead flies through the door of the shaman’s hut, landing with a clatter inside.

I have nothing, and the bonewalker knows it. It raises its sword and stalks towards me. To my horror, from within the hut another bonewalker appears, smaller than the first, wearing the tattered remnants of a dress. Then another, even smaller, child-sized. And a fourth.

Too many.

With a cry of despair, I turn and run.