A dozen heavily cloaked figures stepped into the center of the Silver Spoke at the edge of the central marketplace. Other pedestrians flowed around them without paying much attention. Now that evening had settled over the city, the shops were closed, but the taverns and other entertainment houses were in full swing, and crowds thronged the boulevard.

One wealthy merchant, mounted on a huge roan stallion who clearly expected pedestrians to move out of his way, hauled on the reins to keep from trampling the hooded figures. He cursed down at them, "Watch yourselves, fools! You're going to get hurt if you don't look where you're going."

The closest figure, much smaller than the others, threw off his cloak to reveal blood-red robes. He said, "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

The merchant gaped as the Shadeleech pointed at him and a wave of pure darkness rolled over him and his horse.

The Shadeleech grinned as he sucked the lives out of the fat merchant and his horse. He took his time. No need to hurry.

This way, they had more time to scream.

The agonized wails from the doomed merchant and his horse carried over the crowd and drew the attention of hundreds of eyes.

They all witnessed the impossible.

Makrasha in Tamera.

The monstrous creatures threw off their cloaks, roared blood-chilling battle cries, and fired small crossbows into the crowds. Men and women fell under the volley, and dozens of voices screamed in pain and fear.

The Makrasha drew swords and leaped into the crowd on all sides slashing down the shocked ranks of unarmed civilians. Blood sprayed far out over the crowd, but the screams piercing the early evening darkness drove farther still. People tried to flee, but many were trampled in the press.

Some of the crowd were armed and tried to defend themselves. The Makrasha cut them down and howled louder with bloodlust.

The Shadeleech targeted half a dozen panicked civilians and caught them in his Sthenic power and sucked out their life forces. If only he had time to torture their souls before releasing them to the eternal worlds.

No matter, they served well. He used the pure strength of their souls to conjure crimson fire that he unleashed in rippling sheets through the crowd.

The horrible shrieks of people dying under his power mingled with the agonized screams of those consumed by fire. The Shadeleech tossed balls of fire into nearby buildings and the flames spread quickly, as if the market had been eagerly waiting an excuse to burn.

Panic spread faster than the flames.

The Shadeleech grinned and began systematically targeting as many people as he could, until their soul fires filled him to the uttermost. He fought to contain the tremendous quantity of magic and turned to face the inner city.

Soon the Sentinels would come, and he would destroy them.

#

At exactly the same time, at the southern end of the central market, a second Shadeleech and his dozen Makrasha stepped into the Iron Spoke and announced their presence by consuming an entire portable stage with fire.

Thirty actors, who had been taking a final bow, burned along with two hundred spectators crowded into the small, wooden structure.

The Makrasha waded into the nearby crowds, slaughtering everyone who got in their way while the Shadeleech spread burning destruction in an ever-widening circle.

#

In the outskirts of town, dock workers lived in a decrepit section of town made up of a warren of narrow streets, crowded with wooden buildings. The ramshackle buildings only remained standing because they were packed in so close to their neighbors they lacked space to fall.

A third Shadeleech and his Makrasha stepped into a rare open park in that poor section of town, surrounded by narrow streets and crowded houses. They struck first at a group of dock workers and their families celebrating the emperor's return to health.

Fire spread so fast in that part of town that it consumed the attackers along with everyone else.

#

Ten more groups of Makrasha attacked important intersections scattered throughout the city. Each group of half a dozen Makrasha threw off cloaks, howled blood-curdling battle cries, fired small crossbows, and attacked everyone that moved.

#

Panic spread through the city of Tamera faster than the flames fanned by the gentle evening breeze. Wildly conflicting accounts poured in and soon overwhelmed the under-manned city watch. Rumors ran rampant that they were under full-scale attack. Panic ran out of control and the watch proved incapable of maintaining any semblance of order.

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#

In his tower room, Harafin ran to the wide window overlooking the city. He couldn't see down the spokes, but he felt the attackers releasing their deadly powers. Surprise and fear for the population rattled him for a single heartbeat before he pushed focused on responding to the crisis.

Harafin rushed to the ornately carved stone column in the corner of the room and placed a glowing hand on the emperor's seal. He closed his eyes in concentration.

Throughout the palace complex, through every building and down every hall, Harafin's voice boomed impossibly loud. "To arms. The city is under attack by Shadeleeches and Makrasha. This is not a drill. To Arms!"

Soldiers boiled out of barracks and raced for positions along the wall while still struggling to don armor. Many Sentinels rushed along with them. Others released hawks and bonded with the birds to use their senses to scout for enemies. Within seconds of taking flight, they located the burning sections of the city or areas where blood flowed freely down the streets and people fled in panic from Makrasha.

Information began flowing to Harafin, who had leaped from his tower window and slid down a ramp of hardened air. The invisible slide deposited him at the base of the inner city wall. Within minutes, he marshaled the troops and sent companies charging through the upper city toward areas of conflict.

Leander moved faster.

Less than one minute after the alarm sounded, Leander charged through the inner gate of the wall along the Iron Spoke with threescore armed and armored Stalwarts at his heels. His mighty hammer led the way, already burning with blue fire.

#

Adalia stood on the gentle slope of the Iron Spoke, not far from the outer city wall. One hand clenched her bow so hard her slender fingers showed white against the polished wood.

Facing her, a middle-aged nobleman of a major Meinarr trading family, flanked by half a dozen of his guards, barked a laugh. "It doesn't really matter how good you are with that bow, young lady. My guards need to strike fear into the hearts of would-be robbers before they attack." He pointedly looked down at her tiny frame. "With you along, they'd only be encouraged."

Before Adalia could deliver a withering reply, half a dozen cloaked figures who had been approaching quietly from down the street threw back their hoods and roared blood-chilling battle cries.

Makrasha.

The lord and his men all turned to stare just as the Makrasha fired their small crossbows.

Adalia was already moving. Even as the terrifying sounds registered, she dove to the side, and settled in a firing stance on one knee.

The crossbow bolts slammed into the lord's guards. Two of them fell to the ground, screaming, with bolts sunk deep into their torsos. The other guards' cloaks flashed with light. Although they suffered no visible harm, they stumbled back in confusion and fear.

Adalia grinned as she settled into her hunting calm and drew the already-knocked arrow in a single, fluid movement. She didn't care how Makrasha came to be in Tamera, refused to acknowledge the fear that could threaten to set her arrow trembling. All she cared about was that she finally had a worthy target to shoot.

So she did.

The lead Makrasha's center eye exploded in a burst of green liquid as her arrow punched through and sank deep into its brain. It fell dead before it took its first step forward.

The other five Makrasha charged past their dead companion, howling with blood lust. The lord's guards cried out in fear, and retreated, dragging their employer with them. Only their captain had drawn his sword.

Adalia shot the second Makrasha at ten yards.

She dropped the third at five.

With practiced motions, she reached for the next arrow.

The Makrasha recognized her as the primary threat, and focused their charge at her, swords raised to strike her down. The closest Makrasha leaped the last three yards in a single bound, sword already swinging in a mighty overhand blow that would split her in two when it fell.

It never did.

Adalia shot the beast in mid-air. Her arrow drove right through its open maw and punched through the back of its head. She rolled to the side to avoid the corpse that crashed onto the spot she had been kneeling.

The fifth Makrasha leaped over her latest kill, too close for her to shoot. That could be a problem.

The captain of the foolish lord stepped in front of her and shouted defiance as the monster closed with him.

Idiot, Adalia thought as she scurried to the side to get a clear line of sight. Hopefully she could kill the monster before it slaughtered the gallant fool.

The Makrasha crashed into the soldier who didn't try to dodge, and didn't even raise his sword to block. Adalia cringed as she expected to see the much smaller soldier smashed from his feet.

The captain's cloak flashed with blinding light, and it was the Makrasha, not the soldier, who recoiled as if it had collided with a brick wall.

The captain struck, slashing all three of the creature's eyes in a single blow. It howled with pain, and the captain plunged his sword up through its open maw, between its long fangs.

The last Makrasha lunged at the captain, from the opposite side from where Adalia stood, so she had no line of sight.

The Meinarri lord charged into view, flanked by two other guards. He held an ornately carved wooden rod in front of him like a lance.

The rod flashed with white light, and dozens of thick ropes whipped around the monster, tying it up in a double heartbeat. Even as it toppled, the other two guards fell upon it and, with two might blows, decapitated it.

Adalia surveyed the area but found no other threats. She turned to the Meinarri lord, who was standing with his guards, staring at the dead Makrasha in mute astonishment.

"Good tool, that," she said, nodding toward the wooden rod he held loosely in one hand.

The lord hefted it. "Latest kedo talisman. My men's cloaks too. Best money I ever spent."

The captain dropped to one knee before Adalia and banged a fist to his heart. "My lady, you inspire me."

He was quite handsome. Not a total waste after all. She grinned. "Good thing too. You lot woulda been dead afore now if'n I hadn't been around."

The lord pressed his full purse into her hands. "That was the most amazing display of courage and skill I've ever seen. You're hired."

Adalia took the heavy purse. "Thank you, my lord." She cocked her head to listen to the growing tumult from the center of the city. Then she turned uphill at the sound of many booted feet running on the paved thoroughfare.

Stalwart Leander, his mighty hammer burning with blue fire, appeared out of the darkness at the head of threescore battle-ready Stalwarts.

"Are you all right?" he called.

"Took care of this lot already."

Leander saluted and pounded past without slowing.

Adalia turned back to the Meinarr lord. "I'll have to get back to you on that job. I have to check on me friend. She's always getting into trouble, and she can't take care of herself."

The soldiers gave her crisp salutes, and she smiled as she trotted uphill toward the inner city.

She muttered as she ran, "Indira, I bet this entire purse you're caught up in this somehow."