Free The Way of the Black Beast by Stuart Jaffe

Malja smelled them. They did not bathe out of contempt for water. It was something to be controlled and dominated — nothing more. The other smell cutting through the air balanced out the rank odor — cooking meats. Soon the trees thinned out, and Malja saw the village forming a half-circle facing the river.
    The Yad stretched off into the distance. Its waters sped along, creating a dull rumble. The massive amount of moving water cooled the air with its fishy odor. One look vanquished any hope of crossing without the Muyaza.
    A small line of people formed outside the village. Two boys sat up front. They collected the toll. They had rich, golden-brown skin and striking, dark eyes. Muscular arms and chiseled chests found unlikely pairings with ripples of fat around the neck and round potbellies. Waddles of loose skin hung below wide lips. Along their sides grew thick bumps that moved like the stumps of amputated limbs.
    They wore dark, heavy animal skins which, Malja admitted, looked better than some of the ad hoc creations people muddled together. Each also wore a carved piece of wood in the hair. Some wore cubes. Some wore a swooping curve. Others wore a jagged bolt.
    "I'd hate to give up a horse," Malja whispered as they took their place in line, "but what else do we have?" This type of negotiation never worked well for her. She knew how to bargain when holding Viper at somebody's throat. The finesse required for a less threatening situation often eluded her.
    Fawbry puffed up. "Don't worry. I know these creatures."
    The line moved slowly while the boys inspected each offering with care. Most customers were quiet, humble, and knew what to bring. Food held the most value. Using magic to cross the river burned a lot of energy. Offering a chicken, a dazku, or such got fast, respectful service. Items that could be traded for food at a later date were met with grumbling and negotiating.
    One man offered his services as a cook. The boys said no. He argued and pleaded. "We got cooks," they said and pointed for him to leave. The man got angry and yelled obscenities. In no time, three adults walked from the village, each carrying a club adorned with rusty nails and flexing their oversized arms. Before they reached the line, the man had slinked away.
    "You sure about this?" Malja asked Fawbry. She didn't want to end up having to kill those three men because Fawbry wanted to take responsibility and screwed up.
    "I'm not a brave man," Fawbry said. "Trust me. I want to get across the river without any trouble."
    Malja couldn't argue — partially because of his brazen honesty and partially because their turn in line came up.
    The two boys looked bored and petulant. "How many?" one said with a thick, guttural accent.
    Like a traveling merchant, Fawbry raised his hands to punctuate his words. His multi-colored robe fanned out, mesmerizing the boys for an instant. "The three of us, plus the two horses."
    "What you pay?" one boy said, fighting his urge to smile at Fawbry's entertaining form.
    Fawbry moved closer to the boys while checking over his shoulder. "Look here," he said. The boys peered into his hand and exchanged an unsure look. One boy motioned to the other. The other jogged off to confer with one of the adults. The way the adult scowled gave Malja an itch to grab Viper and prepare for slaughter. Though she could control her hands, her eyes still sought out battle information. The longer the boy and the man talked, the more she saw the fight coming.
    She noted how flat the land lay. The hill they came down was too far back for any initial advantage. She observed those in line, gauging if any posed a serious threat. The boy trotted back and whispered to his cohort. Malja focused on the adult watching from a distance. Any sign of an attack and she would take out the boys first. She hated the idea but the shock might gain her enough time to save Tommy and herself. Maybe even Fawbry.
    The boy giving orders swiped the object from