Each sentinel had a fail-safe device implanted in their chest. It atomized their bodies and everything within a short radius. The shock wave traveled much further.

A bright flash of light and Braal was gone.

The flesh giant was gone.

A wide swath of zombies were gone.

A large hole in the floor was all that remained to mark Braal’s passing.

Cechon’s faceplate cleared in a few seconds, having darkened at the blast. He suddenly remembered Luun’s predicament. “Kala!” he turned to find the young sentinel face down on the platform, unmoving.

A glance at the first level showed him the headless outworlder zombie with his limbs broken by the fall. There was no sign of Luun.

“Luun, come in?”

I’m here… on ground level. Kala gave me intangibility, somehow. Awaiting orders.

Cechon let out a breath. “Head for the docks. We’re retreating.”

What about you and Kala?

“He’s unconscious. The zombies are still coming for us, but Braal took care of the Zombie Master and might’ve just given us a way out.”

I believe I see what you’re referring to. I will wait for you at the giant hole.

Zombies had finally reached the narrow walkway that connected the sentinels’ platform to the main one on their level.

Cechon sent a blast of flame that knocked them off. He hefted Kala over one shoulder and began to make his way down to the massive, smoking hole on the first level.

The Kinarians designed their structures to make use of their natural climbing and jumping abilities, which made Cechon’s route circuitous and time-consuming.

He also had to stop and blast zombies out of the way with his fire.

Luckily, they had reverted to shambling once again.

Even with Kala on his shoulder, Cechon was faster.

Braal’s sacrifice…

No.

Now was not the time.

A valiant sentinel gave her life to take out an extremely dangerous threat and gave the rest of her team the chance to escape with their lives and return home with valuable information and experience.

Braal would be honored later to the utmost when they returned home.

The first level was littered with zombie bodies. Bits and pieces, along with a few that appeared surprisingly untouched.

Cechon stopped.

He shifted Kala so he could draw his PDW.

Fire in one hand, weapon in the other.

Instinct built on centuries of combat experience screamed in Cechon’s head.

An intact zombie, head included, was on the ground.

He burned it with a quick flash of flame.

Internal energy was running low. He had to conserve.

He continued to walk toward the hole.

Eyes darted around looking for zombies that appeared to be whole.

One more to the right.

A low-powered shot from his PDW destroyed its head.

The zombies suddenly sat up. Even the ones that had been ripped to shreds or pulped by Braal’s explosion.

“You are one sharp… sentinel? Was it? Right, you call yourselves sentinels? Is that a title or is that what your race is actually called?” the Zombie Master’s voice came from every zombie.

Cechon eyed the gaping hole in the floor.

Just a dozen meters away.

If it wasn’t for the zombies in the way he could’ve made a run for it.

“So, the different colored skin you guys have? Caste system? Or more like the color denotes your roles? Power sets? I’m betting on the latter. Red means shooty powers? The gray one can move fast, turn invisible and intangible. The green one was, what? Strength and defensive? I don’t know what that pale, twinkling one on your shoulder does, aside from pass out all the time. It did sound like you needed him to switch powers. I was distracted at the time. You wouldn’t mind confirming that theory, would you?”

Cechon didn’t speak. He simply sent a silent message to Luun.

He moved without warning.

He sent a powerful blast of fire straight ahead, running into the space it had created.

Burning zombies clutched at him, but he powered through.

The hole was close.

A few more steps and one leap.

The zombie in front of him exploded.

Cechon was thrown back.

The unconscious Kala went tumbling away into a crowd of burning zombies.

The Zombie Master stood tall, blocking the path to escape. He was covered in gore. His long, straw-colored hair was streaked with red and filled with tiny clumps of flesh and bone. He looked no less imposing than he had when he had been spotless at the beginning of the battle.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. You guys made a good show of it. I’m sure your sentinel friends back home would be proud to know how bravely you fought and died. Time’s up.”

The Zombie Master raised a long-fingered hand.

Cechon aimed his PDW.

They acted at the same time.

The PDW sent out a dazzlingly bright lance of light.

A beam darker than black, that somehow diminished some of that light, streaked from the Zombie Master’s finger.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Light and dark met in between the two.

The explosion sent out a wave that silenced everything for a split-second.

Cechon tumbled back several meters. Farther from Kala and from escape.

The shock wave buffeted the Zombie Master back, but he instantly erected a magic shield.

“Those weapons are amazing! Too bad that you’ve probably drained it completely. High energy requirements, right?” The Zombie Master raised a brow. “It looks like you overrode some kind of fail-safe.”

Cechon grimaced as he looked at his hand.

His PDW had melted, along with his gauntlet-covered hand and halfway up his arm.

The pain was non-existent as his body was flooded with suppressants and repair devices, but he realized it was too late. He wondered if Braal had come to the same conclusion in her last moments.

Cechon searched for Kala.

The young sentinel was being carried away by a handful of burning zombies.

Flames danced all around them, while thick smoke began to fill the air.

Cechon sent forth a billowing cloud of fire at the Zombie Master.

“It’s impressive, but it can’t get through my defenses.”

That wasn’t Cechon’s goal.

He only needed to obscure the outworlder’s vision for a few seconds.

He climbed to his feet and ran.

A burst of fire cleared his path to Kala.

Another burst scattered the zombies.

Kala’s armor would protect him long enough.

Cechon burned through the wood floor with the last of his energy. He pushed Kala through and turned to face his fate.

The Zombie Master extinguished the flames and cleared the smoke with a wave of his arm.

“The sentinels will come for you,” Cechon said. He triggered the fail-safe within him.

Just as Braal did, he would give Luun and Kala a chance.

The Zombie Master’s eyes narrowed. He sent the same darker than black beam piercing through Cechon’s armor and chest with a word. “I noticed the same surge of energy from the green-colored one. I won’t be fooled by the same trick twice. Nice try though.”

Cechon didn’t hear the rest of the Zombie Master’s words.

The sentinel’s vision went black as he fell.

Over two centuries of life ended in an instant.

Death had come to their world.

The Zombie Master let out a sigh. He was running low on mana and was barely able to remain standing. He relinquished his direct control over the zombies. Without his influence or the presence of life nearby the zombies went dormant, returning to death.

He lay down amidst the carnage.

At least he got one sentinel corpse.

And as far as he could tell they hadn’t discovered what his plans were for the nearest Kinarian towns.

A successful first step to his plans.

He closed his eyes and began the process of replenishing his mana and stamina.

Down below on ground level Luun picked Kala up and ran as fast as her unpowered legs could manage. She had received Cechon’s last order and intended to comply.

They had to return home and share their experiences in River Town with the Great Intellect.

She could only hope that there were still usable boats at the dock.

Many weeks later, two Kinarians found themselves in a frightening and stressful journey into lands unknown.

“Torn’s Aegis!” Alasdor threw his arms to the sky.

A giant river monster, an amalgamation of fish and turtle, hurtled into the boat.

Or it would have if not for the glowing barrier.

There was a crack like thunder and the monster flopped beneath the water’s surface only to bob back up a few moments later.

The monster floated alongside the boat, pushed along by the powerful current.

From her station at the wheel Reecheep saw its enormous eyes swivel around in alarm. The clear membranes opened and shut rapidly.

“Its neck is broken,” Reecheep said. “It can’t move.”

“Torn is with us then,” Alasdor sat down on the deck. His breaths came in ragged gasps. The old speaker appeared to have aged years during the almost two weeks they’d spent traveling toward the Immortals’ homeland. “The monster will provide the other monsters with a more palatable target than us.”

“Oh, good,” Reecheep said. “Except, we’re a little too close to it aren’t we?”

“Yes, perhaps increasing our distance will be prudent,” Alasdor said.

“Too bad there isn’t much wind for the sail.” Reecheep stared at the clear skies. No clouds to measure the wind. Although the limp sail was indication enough.

“I’d beseech Torn for some aid in that regard, but I must conserve what remains of my strength for the next monster attack,” Alasdor sighed.

The monster attacks had been frequent and terrifying.

The speaker had kept them safe through it all.

Which was why Reecheep couldn’t understand why Alasdor had been powerless against the outworlder and the dead.

As if sensing her thoughts Alasdor slowly rose to his feet with a groan and limped his way to the pilot’s station at the back of the boat.

The old man laid a withered-looking hand on Reecheep’s shoulder. He gave her a wan smile.

“Don’t be concerned. Torn has shown his strength and there is enough left in this old body to make sure that you deliver your charge to the Immortals. They will surely come to our aid and destroy the outworlder.”

“But… we’ve been traveling for weeks. The outworlder could be spreading his evil to other towns.”

“Or the Immortals defeated him and the only thing we must concern ourselves with is traversing this river in one piece and not inside the gullet of a monster,” Alasdor said.

“Speaker…” Reecheep hesitated.

“There are no questions that I will judge you for,” Alasdor nodded.

“Why didn’t Torn grant you his strength against the dead?”

“That— I don’t know. I have communed with him, but have not received an answer.” Alasdor staggered to the nearby bench and sat down. “I only have a guess.”

“The outworlder’s magic was too strong?” Reecheep was horrified by the words that had come out of her mouth.

That a mortal being could somehow counter one of the Kinarian gods was… impossible.

Wasn’t it?

“I don’t wish to believe that,” Alasdor closed his eyes as he leaned back against the railing. “Perhaps it is more a matter of his magic being different.”

“But Torn is a god!”

“Our gods are indeed powerful, but they aren’t invincible,” Alasdor winced, “although they don’t like their speakers admitting such. Even Torn and he’s already less… strict than the rest of the pantheon.”

“Won’t the pantheon act? The outworlder destroyed River Town and killed everyone,” Reecheep said.

“Their power isn’t as present out in the frontiers of our nation. How many speakers have you seen come to River Town?” Alasdor said.

Reecheep thought back. “Just one,” she deflated.

“The pantheon will act when they see fit,” Alasdor shrugged.

If Torn was upset by conduct unbecoming a speaker, he didn’t give any indication.

Reecheep steered their boat closer to the bank on the left side of the river to place distance between them and the stricken monster.

She could already see the water around its massive body churn and turn red.

Alasdor was right.

The other monsters had a more enticing target to focus on at the moment.

The smell, however, was atrocious.

Reecheep considered asking Alasdor if he could do something about it, but the old speaker had fallen asleep and was whistling with each exhale. It made for a soothing tune.

It reminded her of when she was a hatchling. Of the sound her father had made when he had slept.

The smell became bearable thanks to the memory.

She held on to it tightly.

They still had many days of travel to get to the Immortals’ territory.

Her hand strayed to the pouch around her neck.

The hard crystal within was a comforting presence in her palm.

She had to get it to the Immortals.

If she could then the people of River Town would be avenged.

Their stories wouldn’t end in terror, death and the defilement of their bodies.

They would all be given the rest that they deserved.

The outworlder would face justice.

If that happened then maybe when she closed her eyes she wouldn’t see his smiling face as dead talons grasped for her.