Several minutes passed in the cold rain as Kevlin held Ceren while she wept. She started shivering in his arms, but he lacked anything else with which to shelter her, and they dared not move.

He frowned at nothing in particular. The best way to get over a major setback was to move on to something else, but they were stuck, immobile for now. That made it the perfect time to wallow in depressing memories.

He’d gotten good at avoiding thinking about past failures in the last couple years. He’d buried them deep, but in the chill, rainy darkness, his new failure unearthed them like reeking, rotted corpses. Again he recalled kneeling, bound, while the woman he loved prepared to butcher him like a pig. His entire life had crashed down around him as he learned how he’d set up an entire kingdom for destruction.

Until today he would have sworn nothing could topple that day from the number one worst day of his life. At least back then, Donarr had not actually fallen and he’d escaped alive, if destitute and hunted.

He preferred to focus on the positive.

A door banged nearby and he eagerly focused on it. Finally, something to do besides whining.

Slipping his arm from Ceren’s shoulder, he whispered, “Wait here.”

He pushed through the brush to the edge of the forest. The inn loomed ahead, a huge, dark shadow. At least the photophor hadn’t torched the structure.

As he watched, several mercenaries exited, two of them carrying lanterns, while two others bore between them a large bundle wrapped in heavy canvas. Three more carried shovels. Dhanjal followed.

The Blade Stalwart walked with his normal, confident stride. Ignoring the rain, he directed his men toward the trees close to where Kevlin crouched.

He doubted they had any idea he was hidden there, and stayed to watch. The brush beside him rustled and he pulled Ceren down beside him.

“Quiet, or they’ll hear,” he whispered.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The group of mercenaries stopped nearby, and those with shovels began to dig. It took only a few minutes to excavate a hole three feet deep in the soft loam. Two of the men then dumped the canvas-wrapped bundle into the hole.

Dhanjal stood at the edge of the pit and spoke in a solemn tone. “Son of Salawin, you were not chosen by Savas, but you were a worthy adversary. Return to your god with honor.”

Beside Kevlin, Ceren gasped. He put a hand on her shoulder to remind her to be quiet.

“It’s Terach,” she whispered.

“Aye. Dhanjal promised to bury him.”

A murderer who kept his word. The man had to review his priorities.

The mercenaries filled the hole and headed back toward the inn. When Dhanjal turned away, Kevlin glimpsed for the first time a sword strapped to the Blade Stalwart’s back.

Terach’s Pala.

The Blade Stalwart had failed to steal Terach’s essence, so he’d stolen his heritage. He’d never be able to use the sword effectively. It required too much finesse. Kevlin wondered if Dhanjal had a room in his home where he kept all of his murder souvenirs.

“I’m going to have to kill that man,” he said softly.

“Good.” Ceren's voice was harsh, if soft. He hadn’t thought anyone could hear.

A door banged from the far side of the inn, and a couple of shouts rang out in the darkness. “Come on,” Kevlin said. “I think they’re leaving.”

They skirted the woods to reach the back of the barn. From there, they found a good view of the north wall of the inn, illuminated by a single torch in a covered bracket. Cloaked makrasha were marching north on the highway past the inn.

The small pool of light cast by the torch shone on each pair for a second before they passed into darkness. After a score of the giant beasts passed, a pair of mercenaries bearing lanterns appeared. Rhea came next, then two more men carrying a stretcher covered by a length of canvas.

“Is that Antigonus?” Ceren asked.

“I can’t tell. We need to get closer.”

They sidled along the wall of the barn, mere shadows moving in the darkness. The stretcher-bearers passed beyond the small pool of light and Kevlin took a chance, running forward to the wall of the inn with Ceren close on his heels.

They arrived just as the shadeleech strode past, and both cringed back out of sight. Kevlin’s heart pounded and he welcomed the surge of strength. When he risked another look, the shadeleech was already gone. It was even more terrifying not knowing his location.

Two more makrasha passed next, bearing a second stretcher covered in canvas. A gust of wind caught the front edge of the canvas, giving them a glimpse of what lay beneath.

Antigonus.

As pale as death, the old sentinel twitched as rain slashed at his face. His eyes remained closed, but Kevlin’s heart sang with renewed hope.

Apparently the legends about how tough the old sentinel was contained some truth. Kevlin was as surprised as he was pleased to realize Antigonus still breathed.

Beside him, Ceren clutched his arm tight in restrained glee, her emerald eyes shining with hope. He covered her hand with his as he continued to watch the road.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Dhanjal passed through the pool of light next.

Kevlin leaned against the wall of the inn. He had memorized Dhanjal’s features and didn’t need to look at the man again until he was ready to kill him. Pressed against the rough timber, he heard the smashing of glass inside. Puzzled, he glanced around the corner again, just as a handful of mercenaries jogged past, laughing.

Kevlin and Ceren waited half a minute, but no one else passed. Just as Kevlin was preparing to head onto the road, Ceren grabbed his arm.

“Look!”

Flickering yellow light shone from the windows of the common room. The inn was burning.

“Come on.”

Kevlin drew his sword and pushed through the door to the common room to find an inferno raging inside. Most of the tables and chairs had been piled in the center of the room and set alight. The fire had spread rapidly, fueled by the polished wood paneling. A wave of heat forced Kevlin back outside.

He ran to the back door, with Ceren close behind, and stepped inside. The heat was intense and smoke billowed around them, but the fire hadn’t yet spread across the inn.

“There are people upstairs,” Ceren cried.

“Fire!” Kevlin bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Get out of the building!”

There were no sounds of running feet, no screams. The crackling flames seemed to mock him.

Kevlin had Ceren wait a moment while he retrieved his stiletto from a body in the doorway to the burning common room. They then jogged down the hallway, opening doors and looking for another staircase.

When they reached the study, Ceren said, “See if you can salvage any of our gear. I’ll try to find a stair.”

“Hurry.”

She stifled a cough and moved further along the hallway while Kevlin entered the study, bending double to stay beneath the heavy smoke. As soon as he found the packs Ceren had been carrying earlier, he tossed them through the window and jumped out.

Ceren met him outside a minute later. In the ruddy light of the blaze, she wept openly. “They’re all dead.”

Kevlin pulled her away from the burning building. The senseless slaughter was a sign of unprofessionalism, and that stoked his anger higher.

He looked from the burning inn to the darkness of the road where the enemy had disappeared. He and Ceren were in a worse mess than any he had ever seen. The enemy might not have killed Antigonus yet, but that was probably just because they wanted to take the time to enjoy the process.

The enemy had captured Tia Khoa. Would they launch an invasion before the snows or wait till spring? Either way, the empire could not hope to stop them.

Part of him wanted to turn and run the other way, but he had been running for years and it hadn’t helped. He was tired of living only with the consequences of failure. If he left now, he’d never regain his honor.

And millions of people would die. He'd bear some of the responsibility.

The flames roared like a living thing as they consumed the inn. The still-falling rain reflected the light, glittering like amber diamonds before hissing onto the flames. In any other situation, it would have been beautiful.

“Kevlin, help me,” Ceren cried as she tugged at the heavy barn doors. “Antigonus is still alive. We have to help him.”

So much for agonizing over the decision of what to do next.

Kevlin muttered, “I hate you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

By the Lady’s endless wrath, he was an idiot. Was he really contemplating going after the shadeleech? If they didn’t die before dawn, the shadeleech would probably rip out their souls or inflict some other unmentionable torture on them.

He might be a fool, but he couldn’t fool himself. He was going after Antigonus. He’d complain about it and rail against the chains of fate, but he’d go. And as much as he hated to admit it, he welcomed the feeling of having purpose again, of being part of something greater than himself.

His time as a mercenary should have taught him to be less sentimental.

Together they pulled open the barn doors. Inside, the ostlers were dead and all the animals slaughtered in their stalls. The fire hadn’t yet spread there, so they took a minute to take stock of their supplies: Ceren’s healing case, some clothing, blankets, and a few provisions.

While Kevlin searched the barn for anything useful, Ceren changed out of her wet clothes in one of the empty stalls. He found a few apples in a bin, a well-shielded lantern, and a couple of rain slickers. He too changed into dry clothes, then they donned the slickers and took up their packs. He lit the lantern and led the way back into rain, now slackened to a steady drizzle.

They had only spent a few minutes in the barn, but clouds of smoke billowed from its wet thatch roof. A moment later, it burst into flame.

Back on the highway, the half-shuttered lantern gave off enough light to track the war party north, so they followed the muddy footprints.

After a few minutes, Kevlin asked the question that bothered him most. “Ceren, how can a shadeleech be in Hallvarr?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on.” Tears shone in her eyes. She was clearly struggling to stay in control.

“You work with information. Could a war have started we don’t know about?”

“No, but it looks like one’s about to.”

“What do you make of it? First Bajaran and Rhea, then Dhanjal and the mercenaries, and now a shadeleech and makrasha. All here, all now. All united to kill Antigonus.”

“But they didn’t kill him.”

“Why not?” He decided it was a bad time to mention his theory about torture.

“I don’t know.” They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Ceren said finally. “I can’t imagine how they smuggled a shadeleech across the empire with a band of makrasha.”

“Why take such a risk?”

“Tia Khoa.” Meeting his eye, she said with conviction, “It has to be. Antigonus said Bajaran planned to deliver it to the Sigrun.”

“Rhea was trying to get it for her master.”

“So maybe the shadeleech came to make sure the Sigrun got it.”

“Maybe.” Kevlin thought about that, but something still didn’t fit.

They walked on in silence for another twenty minutes but came up with no new ideas. Antigonus was in terrible shape, had already admitted he’d die within days, so maybe the shadeleech was holding him prisoner, a bonus prize for his masters to kill?

“We can’t beat them,” Ceren said at last in a small voice.

“No, we can’t. But we can find out where they’re going. They can’t move around much during the day. There aren’t a lot of people, but there are enough. Stealth is their only defense against discovery.”

“Or murder,” Ceren said with a shudder, glancing back toward the inn, still visible as a glowing beacon in the darkness.

“Aye, but they can’t kill everyone. They have to hide, at least until they start for the border.”

Ceren nodded. “If we can find where they’re hiding, we can figure out what to do next.”

“Let’s hope we have enough time.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a start. Even if they discovered where the enemy hid, he wasn’t sure of the next step. The enemy was very well organized. They had managed to ship a shadeleech with his makrasha across the empire in time to coordinate an attack against Antigonus. They must have also planned how to escape.

How could he and Ceren hope to stop them? Even if they did convince the local authorities, the sparsely populated land lacked a host of trained warriors and sentinels sufficient to confront the invaders. It would take far too long to call for reinforcements from Tamera or Diodor. Il’Aicharen, the Myrrdin enclave, could send sentinels, but it lay far to the northeast.

Kevlin trudged along, chewing on the problem out of pure obstinacy. Any force that engaged an enemy of superior strength without a plan lost. Actually even with a plan, chances of losing were pretty high.

Ceren was supposed to be Cunning, but she was walking right along with him. That helped him feel a little less like an idiot.

They continued in silence for mile after weary mile. The rain subsided into sporadic showers, and finally stopped altogether. Just as dawn began to lighten the eastern horizon, the tracks turned east and disappeared into the forest.

That didn’t make sense. The Tamerlane Sea lay a couple of days’ ride to the west. That was the most likely escape route, so why go east?

All they could do was follow. In the gray light of early morning, they pushed into the trees. Kevlin glanced back once, but the highway was already lost to view. Hopefully they would emerge from that wilderness again, and not fall in the trackless expanse that lay ahead.