Brunhilde was glum. She and Hope had defeated five bandits each, making it impossible to find a winner of their bet. She leaned out of the window of the carriage, watching for more foes, but none came. Only rocks, tough grass and dry earth. Once she locked eyes with the marble black eyes of a desert fox. Its huge ears, larger than its head, perked up. Then it was gone, skipping away into the rocks.

“How long till we reach the coast?” Brunhilde said.

“They said a few days.” Hope yawned. She had sunned herself on the roof of the carriage, taking in sunlight. Her tattoos pulsed with warm power that made her drowsy. She could sleep the rest of the day, but Brunhilde’s mood was irritating her.

“Go and hunt something,” Hope said.

“We have food. And I’m not hungry, I want a drink.”

The wagon driver, Malkor, called out to them, and their wagon and carriage came to a halt. Brunhilde and Hope went to see what he wanted.

“Rains have come from the north.” He pointed to a river up ahead. “Bad luck, usually this crossing is dry.”

What should have been a dry channel cutting across the desert in a south-west direction was now a river. Its thick muddy water filled with branches, rocks and bushes. It pulsed along its course like a living thing seeking to escape its confines.

“How long will this last?” Brunhilde said.

“Like this? Hours, but the river will flow for several days after, maybe a week. There is a bridge north-east, we should try now while it could be clear.” He looked to the north. Black clouds were rolling in the sky. “Before a really bad storm comes.”

“I think it’s here already,” Brunhilde said. They could all feel the oppressive humidity of the storm coming in.

“This is a bad one.”

“Go south now,” their carriage driver said. “This is a hungry storm.”

“I’ve never seen one of those,” Malkor said.

“I’ve seen it myself. The rain has teeth and it bites into you.”

“That’s a children’s story.”

“I’m no child!”

“Stop arguing,” Hope commanded. “We’ll cross here.”

The two drivers stared at her. The river was coursing by even harder now.

“What do you think, goldhair?” Brunhilde asked.

“I’ll make a bridge. See how a princess makes her own path,” she called to the drivers.

She stood beside the river, opened her arms and planted her feet firm in the ground. She had never been talented at this kind of spell, but now she had committed to it, her pride couldn’t let her fail. The tattoos along her legs and body burned as she forced power down through them into the earth.

“Let the earth seek the earth,” she chanted to herself.

A wide shimmer of light like glass spread from beneath her feet. It edged over the waters slowly, like a caterpillar probing a gap. Then at the halfway point it found its target, the path curved and anchored itself into the far bank.

Brunhilde stamped her foot on the bridge. It was solid enough, translucent like honey-coloured glass. Beneath it she saw the thick sludge of the river flow. Shapes like Hope’s tattoos glowed inside it.

“Hurry up, and cross. “Her tattoos glowed so bright they could be seen through her robes.

Brunhilde saw sweat bead on Hope’s brow. “Get across!” she said to Malkor.

He hesitated and she pushed him towards the wagon.

“I was paid to drive a wagon, not cross fairy bridges,” Malkor said

“Get across or I’ll finish strangling you!” Brunhilde shouted.

He shook his reins and the horses cantered nervously onto the bridge. They lifted their hooves quickly, disliking the feel of the bridge. Malkor urged them forward, just as scared of the river below as they were.

However, the carriage driver pulled his horses away from the bridge.

“Come on,” Brunhilde shouted.

“No, no, the storm is here!” he cried. He lashed the horses and the carriage raced away from the storm.

“Your bones will be forgotten by the Moon.” Brunhilde took a few steps after him, but she they had to cross now. “Come on goldhair, I don’t want Malkor fleeing with our riches.” She jogged onto the bridge.

The horses were shaking their heads, but Malkor kept them on course across the bridge, by calling soothing words to them. Water spilled up on the bridge and they jostled each other nervously as it washed round their hooves.

“Come on, come on. We’re fine,” Malkor cooed.

He kept them calm enough to reach the other side. They stamped their feet into the earth, testing its reality after the alien touch of the bridge. Brunhilde saw that Hope was still on the bank, concentrating.

“Stay here.” Brunhilde stepped back onto the bridge and held her arm out towards Hope, gesturing for her to come.

Hope relaxed now that the wagon had passed over, and stepped onto the bridge.

Storm clouds rolled in from the north, and with them sudden slashing rain. Before Hope could reach halfway the rain was thick enough to hide them from each other.

Brunhilde pushed through the rain onto the bridge, to meet Hope halfway. Hope was walking steadily, light pouring down from her legs to hold the bridge. Her gaze was fixed ahead in concentration. Brunhilde put her arm around her to shield her from the rain.

The water was churning harder, lashed by the wind. It splashed up and spattered their legs with mud, which was washed clean by the pelting rain. Brunhilde held her arm up to shield her eyes from the biting rain. She had felt blizzards like this, sudden storms that turned clear skies into howling storms of snow and hail. They had to reach other side and find shelter as soon as possible.

Suddenly Brunhilde saw claws, a toothed maw, wings and a long serpent-like body twisted into a corkscrew. A beast from the sky fell down upon them. She dodged backwards and the monster crashed into the bridge, exploding in a burst of water. Another fell, lashing at her arm.

She leaned over Hope to shield her from the pouncing creatures with her body. Another smashed down in from of them. A cross between a cat and a snake, with wriggling tail and snarling mouth, until it exploded like an immense raindrop. The howl of the rain added to the howl of the creatures made it impossible to hear what Hope was shouting to her.

She felt claws on her back, one of them bit into her neck. She grabbed its body, and it exploded into water. She felt parched and thirsty. One latched onto her leg, gnawing at her with icy teeth. She shook her leg and it span away into the rain. Her mouth was too dry to talk. She opened it to gulp in rainwater, she felt that she would die of thirst.

All she saw were the claws, wings and teeth of the beasts raining down on her. She raged against them, smashing her fists into them as they fell. But no matter how many she dashed into water, more came from the sky.

A shield of light appeared over her. The beasts crashed into it and spattered away.

“Well done, goldhair,” Brunhilde said.

They had a brief moment of protection from the rain and diving beasts, but the river was spilling over the bridge, bringing a mass of wood that battered their ankles. Hope was motionless with concentration. Brunhilde lifted her up.

“Don’t,” Hope cried.

But it was too late. As her feet left the bridge, her spell broke and they were plunged into the full force of the river.