The girl had been brought back with the latest cache of slaves. His soldiers had been getting restless, so he’d allowed them to raze the village of Grassley. Along with the burning and killing, he’d allowed them their pick of the women. Any woman brought back to the castle came with two restrictions: they were not to be maimed or even scarred. They could always be used for castle chores. He’d hacked and pierced, but the Tu’el didn’t like disfigurement around him. 

         But this girl . . . her captor had evidently changed his mind and shoved her among the Hungry Rocks. No whips or guards were needed there, for the Hungry Rocks were the Curse-Blessed’s most insidious invention. Once near a rock, captives were compelled by an unnatural hunger to break it, believing there to be food inside. Once broken, the hollow of the rock didn’t feed them, it devoured their souls. The pieces ground the victim down, allowing the remains to whimper into the void. There was no path in the Deep for one devoured by a Hungry Rock because there was not enough left of the person to warrant one. The batterer, even though he knew he was breaking open his own grave, couldn’t stop. They swung mallets, hammers, whatever was handy. When none were available, they used their heads.

         To get her into the area without becoming captive himself, her captor must have used violent means. The Tu’el noticed her bloody knees. She’d been dragged, then probably rolled with a sound kick.

         He dug his spurs into his horse’s belly and came closer. He wasn’t afraid of the Hungry Rocks.  When the flower bloomed again, the Curse-Blessed had promised him a drop of the elixir. Of course, he was capable of dying, but he’d been given certain wards, charms to protect against it. If his horse hadn’t been so nervous, he’d come closer.

         She was the only one at the rocks. The soldiers were still enjoying their women. They’d brought back cattle as well, but the livestock was so scrawny the Tu’el had sent them to the kennel master to give to the hounds. He’d been surprised when he’d seen her, a lone captive battering away at her death. Even more surprising was the fact that, under other circumstances, she might be a beauty. 

         He called her to come to him, but she persisted in hammering. The Tu’el hated to be ignored. He’d nearly thrown his spear when he remembered she couldn’t leave the circle, probably didn’t even know he was there.

         It was possible to lift the spell but he decided against it. Too complicated and used only in extreme cases, as far as he knew, it had only been used once. Plus, he’d have to give an account and he couldn’t confess he was merely curious about a battered girl. In the end, he ordered a guard to rope her around one leg and drag her out. Her screams were awful for she desired her rock, her death, but once outside its power, she lay still on the ground, gulping air as though she’d been under water.