Ceren groaned as she pushed herself to a sitting position in the tall grass and groped for her sword. Every muscle ached from being tumbled across the clearing. If the grass hadn’t been so thick, she’d have broken some bones.

I’ve got to get back to Antigonus. Without him, none of them would survive.

Something moved through the tall grass nearby. She froze and probed the gloom for the source of the sound, but it was dark and all the shadows seemed to be moving. Her heart pounded so loud she could hear nothing over the thundering in her ears.

Even as she huddled closer to the ground, a rough hand grabbed her right arm and yanked her to her feet. She spun to face a hard-eyed man in leather armor. A scraggly beard half-heartedly covered his face, and greasy, unwashed hair lay matted against his skull. She yelped in pain and he smiled, revealing several missing teeth.

I don’t have time for this.

She jabbed her knee into his groin. He moaned and, as he lurched forward, she grabbed a length of his greasy hair with one hand and slammed her other palm into the base of his jaw. It broke with an audible crack.

The mercenary howled and clutched his mouth with one hand. With the other, he twisted her head down savagely.

Unable to pry his hand free, she yanked the dagger from his belt. Twisting her neck to the uttermost against his grasp, she reared high enough to bash the hilt against his temple.

He dropped like a stone.

Ceren panted while massaging her bruised neck. She’d practiced that palm-strike many times, but had never expected to use it. Her hand hurt and she trembled from the shock of the short, terrifying fight.

She had dreamed of standing strong in a real fight, but reality did not fit her dreams. Her body ached, her clothes were filthy, and her hands began to shake. Still, she could not suppress a surge of pride.

I really did it.

If only her father could see her, he’d never again say her training had been a diversion, a simple rebellion against her other duties. He’d finally take her seriously.

None of the other mercenaries came to investigate, so she slipped into deeper shadows, and only then realized the wall of fire had gone out. Across the clearing, Kevlin and Terach still fought the Blade Stalwart. She watched, spellbound, and tried to reconcile her fantasies about battle with the grim reality. The three men fought with brutal savagery, intent on murdering each other. Her tutors had been right. Despite all the training, she hadn’t really understood.

Beyond the three combatants, a dark whirlwind raged where Rhea had stood. Antigonus knelt with hands outstretched. He glowed with magic, seemingly oblivious to a wide bloodstain that spread across the front of his robe.

# # #

Focused on the whirlwind, Antigonus did not notice Haisyl until she grabbed his shoulder with both hands and wrenched it. His wound tore open again and he toppled to the ground with a moan. He lost control of the whirlwind.

“Don’t hurt my mistress,” Haisyl cried as she beat at his bloody chest. “Just stop. Everyone, just stop!”

The girl was not strong, but each blow felt like a dagger stabbing his chest. He struggled to think against the waves of pain.

A blast of fire from within the whirlwind disintegrated the flying wood. For three heartbeats, a blazing tornado roared around Rhea. Then the wind died and the fire winked out.

Antigonus pushed weakly at Haisyl from his prone position. Blood was pouring from the open wound, soaking his robes.

She backed away, wringing her hands together. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

She turned and fled into the darkness.

Antigonus groaned and tried to gather his thoughts. Haisyl was probably telling the truth. She had no idea how much damage she’d done. The girl was normally a pacifist who, back in Tamera, ran a nursery for wounded animals. She was fanatically loyal to Rhea for having saved her father from a life-long illness. That spell had cost Rhea dearly and it had taken her weeks to recover. That act of kindness had so impressed Antigonus that he’d sought her out. He wondered if the whole scenario had been orchestrated to seduce him.

Rhea stood on a patch of scorched earth. Her clothing hung about her in tatters, and hundreds of wooden shards punctured her bleeding torso. Her hair was tangled, with large chunks missing. She swayed, surrounded by a dim glow of crimson magic. After a single deep breath, she dropped hands impaled in a dozen places from her face and screamed with rage.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” she shouted. “I have to do this, so just die.” She raised both arms high, ignoring the blood dripping from her palms.

Red-green tendrils of magic ripped through the air between them and struck Antigonus in ten places. His thoughts scattered as the magic scorched his flesh and burned his psychic senses like living fire.

“You will scream for every splinter,” Rhea shouted as he howled with pain. He tried to speak a word of power, but her magic ripped the words from his mind.

Haisyl ran toward Rhea, tears streaming down her face. “Please, mistress, can’t we just leave?”

Rhea snarled. At a wave of her hand, an invisible force threw Haisyl screaming back into the darkness.

# # #

Still immersed in the Song, Kevlin stumbled in a knot of twisted grass. Dhanjal lunged and struck him across the shoulder, slicing through the heavy boiled leather and into flesh. The flash of pain jolted Kevlin out of the trance.

He nearly toppled to the ground. Every muscle trembled with fatigue, and his mind clouded with the need for rest. He fought to center his mind but the cadence, still beating softly, set his limbs shaking in fits and starts.

Terach stepped in before Dhanjal could strike again and plunged his pala into Dhanjal’s thigh. The big man grimaced and slashed at Terach’s exposed neck.

Drawing deep from the nearly empty well of his strength, Kevlin stepped forward to deflect the fatal blow.

Sacrifice him, the voice commanded in his head. Strike down your enemy. With the voice, an image of his sword stabbing through Dhanjal’s throat burned into his thoughts.

All he had to do was let Terach die.

He could not do it.

He blocked the scimitar. Barely.

Something snapped inside of him, and the cadence faded away. His mind came fully awake for the first time since the terrible song began.

Terach drove the palm of his hand into Dhanjal’s sternum in a classic Harci straight-arm deathblow.

Dhanjal’s breath whooshed from his lungs and he staggered back. His armor must have prevented the blow from stopping his heart, but even his supernatural strength could not shrug it off entirely. As Dhanjal lurched away, he swung his scimitars clumsily at Terach. The flat of one heavy blade clipped the Tamarri captain in the side of the head.

The two men fell together. Terach dropped to the side while Dhanjal stumbled backward several steps before falling in a heap with a resounding crash of armor.

Terach twitched on the ground, stunned. Dhanjal rolled to his knees but fell back again, his mouth open wide as he tried to regain his breath.

Finally, he was vulnerable.

Kevlin raised his sword.

Antigonus screamed.

Kevlin glanced at the old sentinel. The last thing he remembered, Rhea had been encased in a whirlwind. Now, Antigonus writhed on the ground, tortured by red-green lightning. Rhea stood barely twenty feet away, covered in blood, her body riddled with wooden shafts.

Dhanjal managed to roll onto his hands and knees, a perfect setup for a killing blow, but Antigonus screamed again. Kevlin could not both kill Dhanjal and save the sentinel.

Nothing about sentinels was ever easy.

Kevlin made his choice and took two quick steps toward Rhea. He drew his heavy belt dagger, and threw it. The blade spun once and plunged to the hilt between Rhea’s ribs, knocking her several paces to one side.

She screamed and pawed at the dagger. The magic torturing Antigonus winked out. Rhea fell to one knee, cried out again, and the red halo surrounding her pulsed, faded, then strengthened again.

Served her right. Psycho.

“Kevlin!” Terach shouted.

He dove to one side, and a blade whistled past his ear, so close the air vibrated against his skin. Kevlin rolled and came to his feet just as Dhanjal kicked Terach aside and turned to face him.

The Blade Stalwart lowered his scimitars and smiled. His eyes drifted past Kevlin to stare at something beyond him. Although it was one of the oldest tricks, Kevlin could not resist the urge to glance back over his shoulder.

He gasped, but had no more time than to register the huge ball of fire bearing down on him. The heat singed his face as death crashed into his chest.

It didn't kill him, but disappeared with a little popping sound.

Rhea shouted a vile curse and staggered. He couldn't imagine how she managed to remain standing.

When Kevlin turned back to Dhanjal, the Blade Stalwart stared at him with eyes wide. “The Song of Savas rings in your soul, and magic does you no harm. Has some god accepted your service as stalwart and granted their shield of faith?”

Kevlin had no idea, but snarled, “You’ll never know, coward.” Dhanjal’s dark face reddened and he again raised his scimitars.

“Dhanjal, I need you,” Rhea called.

The big man hesitated.

“Dhanjal, remember our purpose.”

The stalwart sighed and retreated a step. After sheathing his heavy blades, he bowed to Kevlin and Terach in turn. “Brothers, rest well and prepare to meet your gods. We will dance the song again.”

Dhanjal whistled a single, shrill note and declared, “We go.”

Then he strode across the clearing toward Rhea, who staggered into the distant trees, still clutching at the dagger that protruded from her side.

Terach, his face dripping with sweat, made to follow, but Kevlin held him back.

“We can take him,” Terach said through labored breaths. A bloody lump stood out from his thick black hair, and his surcoat had been slashed in several places, but he seemed willing to carry on the fight.

“Perhaps, but I don’t know if we can kill Rhea and the rest of the mercenaries too.”

“Good point.”

Ceren joined them, streaked with dirt, and with grass clinging to her disheveled clothing. Slender and barely as tall as Kevlin's shoulder, she stood proud and defiant.

“Are you all right?” Kevlin asked.

She nodded, sheathed her sword, and tried to smooth her hair.

“Are you all right?” Terach repeated.

She nodded, then threw her arms around Terach's neck and hugged him tight. The Tamarri captain was clearly surprised, but just as clearly pleased, and wrapped his arms around her in return.

Kevlin turned away and shrugged. Let the nobles have their fun. The last woman he let himself love had destroyed his life and nearly killed him.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a year, he jogged over to Antigonus to see if the old man still lived. Maybe the sentinel had some answers.