Kevlin awoke slowly. With a start, he remembered the makrasha and Indira. He reached for his belt dagger, but a shape loomed over him, reaching toward him.

He grabbed it, yanking to overbalance the monster so he could get a grip on its throat. Instead of powerful hengaruk, the shape was warm and soft. It cried out with a woman’s voice.

Indira.

Her face came into focus scant inches from his own, an adorable shy smile on her lips. For two pounding heartbeats he stared, mesmerized. Her sable hair had fallen forward to frame her face, and the locks caressed him while her faint alluring scent enveloped him.

He was lying on a cot and had grabbed Indira’s cloak just below the neck and tugged her forward over him. He was suddenly and intensely aware of her body pressed against his.

“I’m so sorry,” he stammered and helped her to rise. He wanted to say so much more, but could not find the words.

Indira said nothing, and Jerrik called out from behind her. “I tried to warn you, miss.”

“I should have listened,” Indira said.

“Better just to kick him in the ribs when he oversleeps.”

Indira laughed. “Can you imagine me kicking anyone in the ribs?”

“No,” said Drystan, stepping into view. “We'll take care of that part.”

Indira turned back to Kevlin. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, but how. . .are you all right?”

She smiled, and he had to remind himself he hardly knew the woman. That smile influenced him far more than it should. Was she some kind of secret sentinel?

“I’m fine,” she said. “You’re the one who almost died.”

The crossbow. He inspected his side, remembering the pain. They had removed his armor and jerkin, and his skin looked new and clean. A dull ache remained deep in his torso. He stood up and took a deep breath, tentatively swinging his arms and stretching his side.

Her power awed him. “I feel great.” He took a step toward her and she backed away.

No kiss.

He bowed low over her hand. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Be careful,” she said. “That wound was deep. It’s healed, but your body needs time to fully recover.”

“I promise.” Kevlin pulled on his jerkin and reached for his tattered breastplate. He stared at it, then dropped it. Why bother?

“We have spare chainmail,” Jerrik suggested.

“Thanks.”

Kevlin noticed for the first time that they were in a long tent full of cots. Most were empty, but a few held wounded soldiers. Nikias slept peacefully on one nearby, the Bladestaff resting underneath. Dried blood covered much of his torso, but his face was clean and unmarred.

Ceren slept on another cot. Kevlin was glad she looked like she was going to be all right. He cared for Ceren. Having shared danger and a common goal over the past days, he felt he knew the strong-willed woman. Hopefully after their last talk, she’d ease up with the attitude and allow them to work together without all the angst.

“How long have I been out?” Kevlin asked.

“About an hour,” said Jerrik. “Long enough to get out of most of the work. We’ll see you outside.” He and Drystan pushed out of the tent.

“How’s Ceren?” Kevlin asked Indira. “That was quite a hit she took.”

“She’ll be all right.” Indira tried to step past Kevlin, but her legs gave out suddenly. He barely caught her.

“Indira, what’s wrong?”

She muttered something indistinct, then her head rolled to the side.

Kevlin lowered her onto a cot near Ceren. Her forehead was clammy, her breathing shallow. She was a healer. He'd never heard of a healer getting sick.

Before he could rise to fetch Leander, Indira clutched his arm and said in a tired voice, “Please stay.”

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, kneeling beside the cot. He tried not to notice how good she smelled. Compared to soldiers, her scent was a rare pleasure.

“Just tired,” she whispered. “Using my gift drains my strength.”

“Are you sure?”

She managed a weak smile and squeezed his hand. He couldn’t imagine letting go. He studied her, wondering how she influenced him so powerfully. He’d been around beautiful women, but none of them drew him so strongly. It made him very uneasy.

“I just need a minute.”

Kevlin wasn’t sure how long he knelt next to her, but it wasn’t long enough. Eventually, she closed her eyes and placed her other hand over her forehead.

“Are you sure that makrasha didn’t hurt you?”

She laughed, and the sound danced through his heart.

“You have to stop doing that,” he muttered. It was too distracting.

“Doing what?”

“Never mind. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really. Nothing can hurt me when I’m healing.”

Did he really hear that correctly?

“Then why’d you just faint?”

“I told you, I’m tired. That’s different. When I’m healing, my gift of Faith protects me.”

“Like the stalwarts?”

“Sort of. My gift protects me from physical harm as well as spiritual or magical harm. That’s why I didn’t fear that makrasha, and why its sword couldn’t hurt me. I was using my gift to heal another, so I was protected.”

So not an idiot after all. The last excuse he could think of for staying aloof vanished.

Kevlin sat back on his heels. “You can really do that?”

“It is a very rare gift.”

“That’s amazing.”

She nodded, then buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

That was weird. Kevlin never pretended to understand women, but he had no idea how to react.

He touched her shoulder. “I thought you said you were all right?”

She took a deep breath before lowering her hands. Tears streaked her cheeks and glistened in her dark eyes. Her lashes were very long. He wished he hadn’t noticed.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

She sat up. “There’s just so much pain and suffering. I couldn’t save them.”

Indira drew from a pocket in her robes a well-worn deck of playing cards. She slipped them out of the restraining strap, cut the deck, and expertly shuffled them. Cards flipped between her fingers as she stared blankly at the wall of the tent.

Kevlin sat beside her. “You play?”

Indira glanced at the cards as she bridged them, then snapped them from one hand to the other. She shrugged. “I spend a lot of time around injured soldiers. I picked up a few things.”

She held out the cards and he took the proffered deck. The well-used cards were printed with eight different symbols in three colors. These were serious gambling cards, used in the more complex games.

“You ever play for real?”

Indira gave him a hard look and took the cards. “If we had time, I’d teach you a few things. Shuffling helps me relax.”

Kevlin grinned. He had never imagined this side of Indira. “Do you cook too?”

She chuckled. “Not for people I care about. The last time I tried cooking, I had to heal everyone who ate it.”

“Eating is overrated,” Kevlin joked.

Indira slipped the cards back into her robe and her easy smile faded to her normal shy expression. It was as if he had glimpsed a part of her she hesitated to let out, and he was thrilled to have seen it.

He wanted to explore that new side of Indira, but the moment passed.

“I apologize for the outburst earlier,” Indira said, once more composed. “I only wish I could have done more. I can’t bear to see anyone suffer. I’ve been given a wonderful gift, and it breaks my heart when I can’t help.”

“You did more than anyone else could have.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “When we realized the extent of my gift, Leander accepted me as his ward to tutor me personally. He’s trying to learn how to protect others with his faith as I do.”

“You protect those you heal too?”

“As long as they don’t rejoin the battle, those I heal remain protected by my faith. If they fight again, they’re left to their own strength. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“So, can you control who you extend your faith to, and for how long?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but paused. “Well, I’m not sure how it works. That’s just the way it is.”

“You mean it just happens without any control from you?”

“I suppose I must be controlling it at some level, but I never considered how it was done. I just did it.”

“So, is it possible you could shield someone with your faith who was not being healed by you?”

She considered the question. “I honestly don’t know, but I don’t think it would work under normal conditions. I don’t think I could bring myself to give anyone such an advantage over another.”

“Think about it. You may find a time when it would be justified. It’d be terrible to have the opportunity and not be ready for it.”

“Thank you.” Indira gave him a warm smile. “I’ll consider it. You’re a good man.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

That was more like it.

Kevlin stood, even though he really wanted to try kissing her again. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

He stepped out of the tent into early morning light. The kestrels still worked amid the rubble of the command building, although most of it had been sifted already.

Wayra threw up her hands, “By the blasted gods, where is it?”

“You have not found the shadeleech Tanathos?” Harafin asked from where he sat on a stump.

“No,” Wayra snapped, rounding on the old man. She looked tired, her face dirty, and her skeletal features drawn. “Why are you so focused on a useless shadeleech? We need to find Antigonus. You of all people should know that.”

Kevlin approached, intent on asking if they’d found Dhanjal’s body. He wanted to spit on the Blade Stalwart’s grave.

“I do wish to find Antigonus,” Harafin said. “He was a close friend for more than a century and deserves a proper burial. But that is not our most pressing concern. He chose a steward, so Tia Khoa is safe.”

“What?” Wayra shouted. "You let us dig through that blasted wreckage, knowing it was in vain?"

"Not in vain,” Harafin said. “I need to know if Tanathos lies buried there."

"He doesn't. We found no one. Are you satisfied?"

"No." Harafin stared across the wreckage of the wall, "Where is he?"

Wayra crouched beside him, her eyes burning with desperate hunger. "Who is the steward, and where is the stone?"

Harafin, lost in his own thoughts, gestured absently at Kevlin. "He is steward."

"What?" She sounded like she nearly strangled on the word.

“You like saying that, don’t you?” Kevlin asked, unable to hide a little smile at her open dismay.

Wayra stared at Kevlin in disbelief. "This abomination is steward?"

Kevlin’s smile widened. Her stupid decisions had created this mess.

“Show it to me,” Wayra demanded. The other kestrels drew closer, and none of them looked friendly.

“No.”

Wayra’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly a couple of times. Kevlin watched her, outwardly impassive, but inwardly ready and eager to fight.

She had sent her forces to attack them without determining if they were really enemies first. Kevlin had killed two sentinels who might have lived otherwise. He’d killed before and had figured out how to make peace with himself, but it was a lot harder knowing those deaths could have been avoided.

She turned her back on him and addressed Harafin. “Why did you keep this from me?”

“I kept nothing from you,” Harafin said. “This is the first time you asked about it, and I told you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Watch yourself,” Gabral said, joining the group.

The colonel had changed into a clean uniform. His hair shone with the oils he preferred. “Insubordination will not be tolerated.”

“If you’d told me the truth up front,” she snarled, “we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“If you’d shown a little restraint, instead of attacking us and warning them of our presence, Antigonus would be free,” Gabral countered.

Angry murmurs ran through the kestrels and tension crackled in the air around the group. Gabral shifted his grip on the Mace, but made no other outward sign that he cared about the threat of danger.

“Enough bickering,” Harafin said. “Tanathos is not dead. Antigonus is not dead. Our work is not finished.”

“Very well,” Wayra said. “I will escort the steward safely away while you continue your search.”

Kevlin laughed.

“My kestrels are best able to protect Tia Khoa.”

“Then why was it my spear that broke through that shadeleech’s defenses this morning?” Kevlin said. “Looks to me like we don’t really need you.”

Wayra glared. “How did you do that? You’re not actinopathic.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I demand to know.”

Jerrik pushed through the group and stopped before Gabral. He wore a scowl so deep the sentinels drew back and let him through without argument. Ignoring Wayra’s angry glare at the interruption, he announced, “Sir, the scouts report tracks leading north. Fresh ones. The two kestrels Wayra assigned to watch the northern edge of the clearing have not reported in.”

Harafin had to raise his voice to speak above the ensuing babble of voices. “Silence.” Looking up, he closed his eyes. A soft yellow glow shone around his face.

He’s using a bird, Kevlin realized.

For several long minutes, they waited in hushed anticipation until he opened his eyes. With a grave face he said, “Tanathos rides north.”

“Is Antigonus with him?” Kevlin asked at the same time Wayra asked, “My kestrels?” and Gabral asked, “How far?”

Harafin raised his hands. “Slow down.” To Kevlin, he said, “Antigonus is being carried along, so I assume he is alive.”

“Thank the gods,” Kevlin breathed. Maybe they still had a chance to salvage the situation.

Harafin turned to Wayra next. “Your sentinels are captive, and Tanathos has a halimaw.”

“What’s a halimaw?” Ceren asked. She joined the group, stepping gingerly, as if still in pain.

“Did he have more bears?” Wayra asked, her face paler than normal. Whatever a halimaw was, the announcement had set all of the kestrels muttering nervously.

Ignoring the question, Harafin continued. “He is five miles north, moving fast.”

“He’s running,” Jerrik said.

“Coward,” Gabral spat.

“I doubt it,” Ceren said with a shudder. “That man was terrifying. He knows we have Tia Khoa, so I can’t see him running.”

“No,” Harafin said. “He cannot afford to return to the Sigrun empty-handed, and Antigonus has no value to him without Tia Khoa.”

“Maybe he has reinforcements,” Drystan suggested.

“You think there’s more of them?” Jerrik demanded with an angry glare.

Drystan ignored the look and shrugged. “Who knows? There shouldn’t be any at all.”

“Then we catch him before he can reach them.” Gabral ordered, “Captains, assemble the men. Prepare to ride.”

“Aye.” Both saluted and left.

“Do not be so hasty,” Harafin cautioned. “A choice must be made.”

"What choice?" Wayra asked. "There is little danger. One shadeleech, no matter how strong, cannot stand against my kestrels, and we are trained to fight halimaw."

"That is not my concern," Harafin said. “More importantly, we have but three days before the autumn equinox. In Baldev, we agreed that should we fail to liberate Antigonus, we must make for Tamera with all speed in hopes of choosing the next bearer before Tia Khoa's power is broken."

“He’s so close,” Kevlin protested. “We can catch him.”

“And if Tanathos kills him before we catch them?” Harafin asked. “What then? Will you have me risk the fate of the empire on the slim chance that Antigonus will be saved alive?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Kevlin said angrily. “To save him.”

“Perhaps Kevlin is right,” Wayra said, surprising Kevlin. “Even if we fail to save Antigonus, we should destroy the shadeleech and his halimaw.” She met Harafin’s gaze and squared her shoulders. “We can reach Diodor if we have to. My master, Ah’Shan, is coming."

Harafin turned north, as if he could penetrate miles of forest with his gaze. Then he glanced back at Kevlin, his brows furrowed in thought.

Kevlin knew chasing Tanathos was the right choice. That assurance burned deep in his heart, but how could he convince Harafin to take the risk?

“Listen,” Kevlin said, drawing the old man’s powerful gaze with a gesture toward the towering cliff face. “Antigonus chose me as steward right here, and I risked my life climbing that cliff to get the rock to you. Now we've returned. He’s the old bearer, and he deserves a chance. I mean to keep my oath, even if the path leads into the heart of darkness.”

A look of surprise flitted across Harafin’s face, but he blinked it away fast. When Wayra started to speak, Harafin waved her to silence without breaking eye contact with Kevlin, who began to sweat under the penetrating gaze. It felt like Harafin was trying to read his mind.

After a dozen heartbeats, Harafin glanced at Leander, who looked equally grave, then announced, “Colonel, we leave in ten minutes.”

Kevlin watched after Harafin as the old man strode away. That little speech wasn’t nearly good enough. Harafin was playing a game only he seemed to understand. Kevlin was grateful their paths still lay in the same direction, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just played into Harafin’s hands.