The blast catapulted Nikias into the air and threw him across the parade ground, where he smashed through the sagging roof of the stables. The Bladestaff flew from his hand and tumbled far out into the field outside the fort.

The shockwave knocked Kevlin and most of the other soldiers to the ground. Men gagged, and some vomited, from the cloying stench of smoke and burned flesh.

Curse magic and all who wield it, Kevlin thought, as he rubbed smoke out of his eyes. Give me a swordfight any day.

He stood as his vision cleared, then groaned. The shadeleech was gone, as was the porch. Only shattered, burning wreckage marked where the command center had stood.

The kestrels stood in a line facing the rubble, with Harafin in the center, a shimmering nimbus of light still visible from the shields they’d used to deflect most of the blast.

“Antigonus,” Kevlin cried. He stumbled forward until the heat from the burning wreckage pushed him back. No one could have survived.

The huge funeral pyre mocked his failure.

At least now Antigonus was at peace. That didn’t help Kevlin much, though. He’d have to keep the rock until Harafin found another bearer. If they didn’t find one before the solstice, he was going to drop the rock into the ocean before it blew them all to the next world.

Kevlin’s eyes burned from the smoke and his muscles shook with post-battle exhaustion. Antigonus was supposed to be such a powerful sentinel. Kevlin wished he’d known the man before Bajaran’s cursed dagger struck him down.

Harafin raised a hand, and the flames winked out. Even as soldiers staggered to their feet, he called, “Colonel Gabral.”

“Aye.” The short officer trotted over. He looked unaffected by the shadeleech’s explosion. He’d already pulled off his helm, and sweat-drenched hair lay matted against his head.

“I sense no shadeleeches in the immediate vicinity, but keep your men on alert for an ambush. Post a double guard, and search the fort.”

“Aye.” Despite Gabral’s insistence about being in command, he saluted before barking orders. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced.

Some soldiers began searching for wounded, while others moved to defensive positions along the shattered wall, or spread out to search the rubble for any surviving makrasha.

Wayra pointed at the wreckage of the command building, calling to her kestrels. “Move this rubble. Find Antigonus’ body. We cannot rest until he is found.”

The group, some sagging with exhaustion, approached the wreckage with glowing hands. Debris floated into the air and piled against the base of the cliff.

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Kevlin still blamed Wayra for the disaster, but her dedication to finding Antigonus diminished his hatred a little. Pushing aside the dark despair, he moved to join Harafin, who stood surveying the kestrels’ efforts.

“We must discover if Tanathos is buried here too,” Harafin said to Wayra.

“Do you really think he might be?” Kevlin asked.

Wayra glanced over and glared. “Get back, you fool.”

Kevlin glared. “I want Antigonus found at least as much as you do.”

Wayra waved him away. "Don't be stupid, man. The old fool's dead. All that matters is finding Tia Khoa."

She turned away, and Kevlin stared after her. She was one cold-hearted piece of work.

Harafin placed a hand on his shoulder. The old man looked tired and sad. He shook his head and motioned Kevlin back.

Kevlin turned away from the cascading wave of rubble that swiftly piled against the cliff. Billowing dust covered the area in a light haze that mixed with the sentinel lights, coloring everything in a strange twilight.

Sweeping his gaze across the devastation, Kevlin fought to hold back despair. He noticed Indira exiting the stables, followed by a pair of soldiers carrying Nikias in a makeshift stretcher. They set him down, and she began working on his broken body.

Dawn had not yet arrived and despite the glowing orbs of sentinel magic, deep shadows still clung to much of the fort. In the near-darkness, Indira’s creamy skin glowed. Whether it was her healing magic, or a trick caused by the hazy air, the effect was powerful and he couldn’t look away.

He hadn’t been able to determine any falsehood in her goodness. As he studied her beautiful face, he suddenly longed to understand how she maintained it despite the grim work she was often forced to undertake. She leaned farther over Nikias’ unmoving form and her midnight hair fell forward and obscured her face from view.

He decided to talk with her. He could use some peace and she was the only person around who he trusted to ask.

He was just opening his mouth to call to her when a clicking sound caught his attention. It came a second time from the darkness of the shattered stables behind Indira, and there was no mistaking the disgusting noise.

Makrasha.

Two of the giant beasts rushed from the darkness, howling with delight as they descended on Indira.

Instead of screaming or fleeing, she stepped toward the monsters and raised her hands as if to push them away from her patient.

Kevlin had never imagined her simple goodness might stem from being an idiot.

As one of the beasts raised a sword to strike Indira down, Ceren appeared from behind a pile of rubble and leaped forward, shouting, “Indira, run!”

The second beast caught Ceren mid-leap with a backhand blow that smashed her to the ground in a crumpled heap.

The first beast slashed at Indira’s head, a mighty blow that could split a person in half.

“No!” Kevlin sprinted toward her. He'd never arrive in time to help. Behind him, warning cries rang throughout the fort, but they were all too slow.

The blade never touched Indira.

A finger’s width above her unflinching face, the huge blade bounced back as if it had struck a solid wall.

Kevlin didn’t have time to wonder at it. Shouting a wordless cry of rage, he lunged past Indira and plunged his blade through a rent in the huge creature’s armor. It sank to the hilt and hot blood poured over his hands.

The makrasha howled and thrashed in pain, ripping the sword out of Kevlin’s hand. The second monster aimed a crossbow at him. Only three feet away, it couldn’t miss.

It pulled the trigger.

The impact staggered Kevlin back as the small bolt punched through his leather armor and sank to the fletching in his side. Agony shot through him, so intense he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. Bile rose in his throat, and he tasted his own blood.

He fumbled for his dagger, his hand slow and uncoordinated, but the monster clubbed him in the side of the head with the crossbow.

Darkness took him.