Kevlin approached the highway and the sentinels’ conflict on the far side. Flashes of light came faster. White, red, white, like some crazy, gigantic firefly. They were also dimmer, and thunder no longer rumbled with each flash, leaving the woods blanketed in an eerie quiet.

Just a couple of old friends quarreling. If only he could believe that! The memory of the sentinel fog dogged his steps and set his skin crawling.

Surely Antigonus must be all right. He'd survived a century of battle against the shadeleeches. It would be worse than unfair for him to die in this forsaken wilderness. Kevlin thought again of the bloodset. Then he paused to close his eyes and breathe deeply, even though he hated inhaling the magic-laden air.

Focus, he told himself, and reached for the calm he always sought before a fight. The battle lines are drawn. Just. . .treat it like a night assault on a fortified position.

He might be about to die at a sentinel’s hand, but he wouldn’t blunder in and make it easy for them.

After a moment, he felt centered again and pushed through the brush to the edge of the highway. There he crouched in the shadows to scan the road. In the dim, flickering light, he could not see far along the wide expanse of hard-packed gravel.

Nothing moved, so he started across.

Before he reached the midpoint, two columns of fire – one green and one gold - erupted upward from beyond the trees. They twisted into a writhing, multicolored pillar that reared a hundred feet into the sky. Trees all around the flames ignited into giant torches. Flames leapt high, then leaned toward the blazing column in their center, creating a firestorm that blasted scorching air in all directions.

Sap from several huge pine trees exploded. One giant toppled into the forest with a thunder of cracking wood that shook the ground and hurled flaming debris in every direction. The trees seemed to scream as fire ripped through them and dense smoke obscured the crowns like funeral veils.

Kevlin ducked and raced for the far edge of the road. Despite being closer to the conflagration, it offered better concealment. Burning leaves swirled around him, fading to ash before settling to the ground, and filling the air with tendrils of soft smoke.

Crouched beside a wide tree, Kevlin stared in awe at the towering flames. More trees ignited until a wall of fire blocked his path. The heat blistered his exposed skin, and he raised a hand to shield his face.

This is as crazy as sailing the Gohban Straits on a moonless night. If he drew any closer, he’d be just another piece of fuel to be immolated.

In the next heartbeat, the pillar of fire at the center of the inferno winked out, and the flames subsided around the trees. Kevlin pushed forward for a better view even as another burst of red light flared beyond the wall of burning timber and painted everything a deep, sinister crimson.

The flames flickered toward the source of that light as if driven by an unseen wind. Every bit of fire licking along every nearby tree pulsed together, as if part of a single, giant heartbeat.

Then they all winked out in the blink of an eye. The sickly light of the sentinel’s magic intensified, and a booming shockwave thundered through the woods and knocked Kevlin back a pace.

A man shouted, but his cry cut short.

All light vanished, and darkness rushed in to fill the void, drawing with it a heavy blanket of absolute silence.

Kevlin inched forward, hating the thought of breaking that unnatural silence with even a tiny sound. He breathed a soft prayer of thanks to the Lady that the heavy winds had scoured the ground clean. He’d been trained to move silently in a darkened building or city street, but not in a dense forest. Those were the only skills he had, so he tried to apply them.

It was legendarily stupid to draw closer to the magical confrontation, but he had no choice. Forward or back, he might die tonight but, by the Lady, he’d face his fate with sword in hand.

As the dense smoke settled around him like a shroud, he covered his nose and mouth with the cuff of his shirt and breathed shallow to avoid coughing. A wan yellow light, about as bright as a campfire, appeared just ahead. Kevlin crept around a stocky old pine tree that a moment before had burned like a torch, but now stung his fingers with icy cold.

Beyond the bole, a man in the white robes of a sentinel stood in the center of a charred circle of ground about thirty paces across. Kevlin couldn't tell if it had been a natural clearing, or if the magic had just vaporized the trees.

The figure was turned away, so Kevlin could only see a head of brown hair streaked with gray. The man stood panting, with a ball of glowing yellow light hovering over one upturned palm.

Another white-robed sentinel lay at the man’s feet, cocooned neck to toe in a web of red energy. His long gray hair and beard were disheveled, and a wide bloodstain darkened the front of his robe. Despite the wound, his eyes glowed with inner light like a partially-shuttered tempest lantern.

Kevlin grimaced. That looked like a lung wound, and those were always ugly. Terach had said Bajaran stabbed Antigonus, so he assumed the prone sentinel must be the great man.

“How did you manage to conceal the mark of evil from me?” Antigonus spoke into the silence.

Bajaran barked a laugh. “You see nothing but the future you hunt. How many years has it been since you’ve thought of me as anything but a tool to use on this journey?”

“Is that why you’re doing this? Because I offended you?”

Bajaran snorted. “Your place is only to die. I need Tia Khoa.”

“You cannot wield it. You can’t even touch it.”

“I don’t need to touch it. I just need to transport it.”

Antigonus regarded Bajaran for several seconds. “You mean to deliver it to the Sigrun? They would destroy the Six Kingdoms.”

“They might. What matters is that Tia Khoa will guarantee my seat on the Sigrun council. It’s time for me to taste a little power.”

“You were raised to Elite not a dozen years ago.”

“So what? How many decades, or centuries, would I have to wait to sit on the High Council? With Tia Khoa, the Sigrun will accept me immediately.”

Kevlin leaned a hand against the tree to steady himself and tried not to gasp. He refused to think about the Sigrun. Saying that word, even to oneself, brought bad luck.

“You would destroy the Six Kingdoms for your ambition?”

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“Yes.” The calm way Bajaran spoke made the declaration all the more terrible.

Antigonus’ expression turned sorrowful. “Then you are already worse than dead.”

“You first,” Bajaran said, and he raised a hand that burst into red fire.

Kevlin stepped out from behind the tree. He had to do something. The sight of Antigonus lying helpless, about to be murdered, triggered dark memories of suppressed terror. It compounded the lingering fear that Bajaran might again unleash the sentinel fog after destroying Antigonus. If only Kevlin hadn't left his bow in camp.

He crouched to charge, but then paused.

Almost directly across the clearing from him, a woman stepped out of the forest and walked calmly into the light of Bajaran’s magic. Tall and shapely, with long, honey-blond hair cascading past her shoulders, she seemed completely out of place in the wilderness.

She dressed simply, but elegantly, in a pearl-gray silk bodice and deep green riding skirt, and moved with a sensual grace that made Kevlin’s pulse race. The sway of her hips, the tilt of her chin, and her inviting smile with slightly parted lips seemed perfectly orchestrated to capture a man’s attention.

“Rhea,” Bajaran said, his eyes glued to her.

Antigonus’ mistress? Terach had said she was a sentinel, so why wasn’t she wearing the traditional sentinel white? Was she so confident in her power that she could walk up to Bajaran without striking first? Would he merely surrender?

The way she moved, many men would be happy to.

Kevlin gripped his sword tighter. He could cover the dozen paces to Bajaran in a few seconds. With Rhea creating a distraction, he might just make it.

Rhea stopped close to Bajaran and looked down at Antigonus’ bound form. The fallen sentinel stared back at her, a question in his eyes.

“Good work,” she said to Bajaran in a warm, sultry voice. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to take him yourself.”

“Little good you did. Why did you even come along, if not to help me tonight?”

Rhea shrugged. “You both caught me by surprise.”

“I hadn’t expected him to last so long.”

“I came back as quickly as I could, but it looked like you had everything under control.”

“You watched but didn’t intervene?”

“Why ruin the victory for you?” she purred, stepping closer and sliding a hand along one of Bajaran's arms.

Kevlin barely suppressing a growl. Images of remembered betrayal, shaken loose by Rhea’s treachery, clouded his thoughts and filled him with fury.

Why does a person do that?

Although it was another woman's face that burned in his mind, he focused his rage on Rhea. He needed to smash something, but rushing out into the open would just get him killed. He picked up a fist-sized rock, but nearly laughed to consider it. Insanity was piling upon insanity tonight, with no end in sight. Attacking two sentinels was usually a guaranteed way to return to the eternal embrace of the Lady, and the only ranged weapon at hand was a rock.

The searing agony of having had his heart, his very life, shattered by one he had trusted returned with undiminished force. He had spent a lot of effort to banish those emotions, but they ignited in his soul with full potency, as if eager for a reunion.

Those two sentinels had completely wrecked his evening.

In the clearing, Bajaran was saying, “Once I've dispatched him, I’ll take Tia Khoa and we can be gone.”

“I’m proud of you.” She leaned closer and brushed his lips with her own. One hand wrapped around the back of his neck, while the other slid off his arm and fell to her side. Her palm opened and a long, thin poniard appeared in it.

It appeared she was not going to wait as long to betray him as she had Antigonus.

Bajaran did not notice the weapon as she kissed him once more, then pulled away a little, a seductive smile on her lips.

“Now's not the time,” he said, his voice so soft Kevlin could barely make out the words. “I have to finish this.”

“So do I.”

She clutched his hair with one hand, while slamming the poniard into his eye.

Bajaran screamed and convulsed away, the movement ripping the poniard out of her hand. He twisted as he fell, giving Kevlin a clear view of the hilt of her blade protruding from his face. He toppled to the ground, twitching.

Rhea immediately turned and raised a hand over Antigonus. The web of magic holding him had begun to fade, but she restored it before he could move.

Antigonus glared at her, his eyes reflecting the same remembered rage burning in Kevlin's heart. “I can’t believe I loved you.”

Kevlin was starting to wonder how anyone could live long enough around her to even try.

Rhea looked away, her eyes drawn to Bajaran’s still-twitching form. Without warning, she doubled over and vomited.

She had killed with such flair, it surprised Kevlin to see her affected by death. Rhea knelt for several seconds, her breath loud in the quiet. Only after a few steadying breaths did she wipe her mouth with the back of one hand and stand up.

She met Antigonus’ gaze and whispered, “I am so sorry.” A tear slid down one cheek, and her body shook as if with suppressed sobs.

She was one twisted piece of work. Was she in league with Bajaran or not? The woman who had roasted Kevlin's heart on the spit of her betrayal hadn't wasted time with second-guessing.

“Rhea,” Antigonus pleaded gently. “Release me.”

She placed one hand over her mouth and cried openly. “I can’t, but I want you to know I really do care for you.”

She needed someone to explain to her what caring for someone really meant.

“Then why do this?”

“I have to. . .I have to take Tia Khoa.” She spoke in a voice so soft Kevlin barely heard. “My master commands it.”

“You have a choice.”

“No, I have to do it.”

“I can protect you.”

She shook her head. “He’s marked me. I can’t break free.”

“What is your master’s name?”

After several gulping breaths, she twice opened her mouth to speak before finally managing to say, “Masego.”

Then Rhea shrieked and clutched at her head. She stumbled, her face glistening with sweat and her lovely features twisted in fear.

“I will. I will!” she shouted hysterically. “I’ll do it.”

Whatever crazy episode she was having passed and she regained some of her lost composure. “I have to do it,” she repeated through her sobs. Her body still shuddered from whatever ordeal she’d just suffered. “Goodbye.”

Her words galvanized Kevlin into action. He’d watched the spectacle in mute astonishment. What an idiot. In those seconds while she was distracted, he could have put her out of her misery.

He didn’t need to understand her. In fact, he doubted he ever could. It didn't matter, though. She was going to murder a man she professed to love. That was more than enough.

Good thing he had a rock handy.

Kevlin threw it far out over the clearing. It landed on the far side, at the edge of the trees. Rhea spun at the dull sound it made, and pointed. Fire erupted all along the edge of the glade, igniting trees and flooding the air with heat and light. And sound.

Flames roared through the trees like a hungry animal. Under that concealing din, Kevlin sprinted from the shadows toward Rhea. He covered four paces, then six. His sword rose to deliver the killing blow.

Somehow Rhea sensed his presence. She spun around when only four leaping strides still separated them. Despite the surprise on her face, she did not hesitate. She raised a hand, palm out, and the three remaining strides might as well have been half a mile.

Her eyes were hard, no longer showing any doubt. Her hand glowed with brilliant light as she called forth her magic.

He was a dead man.

Kevlin threw himself to the side as a bolt of ugly red magic shot from her palm. There was no way she could miss. But as the bolt reached out with the promise of instant, violent death, it seemed to slow, as if struggling to pass through the air.

That split second of delay was enough. Kevlin tumbled to the ground on top of Bajaran’s body, and the fiery bolt singed his armored shoulder instead of blasting a hole through his chest.

The acrid smell of Rhea’s vomit burned in Kevlin’s nose and his heart pounded with fear. He tried to gather his feet under him to spring across the gap toward her, but his legs became tangled in Bajaran’s robes, and he wasted a vital second.

Rhea cursed and kicked Antigonus in the head, as if he had somehow interrupted her magic bolt. She raised one hand over the fallen sentinel and the magical prison flared with renewed strength. Then she pointed her free hand at Kevlin.

He could not move, had not regained his balance, and was still hopelessly entangled with Bajaran’s corpse. He would not escape death a second time.

A silvery spear of magic appeared in her hand and leaped toward his chest. He did not even have time to blink.

It flared as it touched him.

Then it disappeared.

Kevlin stared first at Rhea, then at Antigonus. She seemed just as surprised, and fearfully took a step back.

I should be dead, twice over.

This was not the time to dwell on why. If he didn’t move, his miraculous second life would be short-lived. He kicked his legs free of Bajaran's robes, leaped to his feet, and raised his sword. Rhea retreated another step, her hand outstretched to cast another spell.

In that second, the magic web binding Antigonus splintered with a boom and a shockwave that knocked Kevlin and Rhea apart.

Antigonus struck. White-hot magic flashed from his eyes and slammed into Rhea's torso. She screamed and staggered from the impact. Her blouse blackened, and charred flesh showed through a gaping hole that exposed her midriff.

“I have to do it,” she wailed.

“So do I,” Antigonus replied sadly. He threw his head back and roared, his eyes blazing with power.

Kevlin braced himself. This sentinel love spat was about to turn very, very ugly.