Kevlin pushed through the soldiers and joined Harafin and Leander at the front of the company. Harafin worked at carving a ladder out of the rock so the party could ascend. After that first stretch, they would be able to climb the rock itself until they neared the top, where another section of sheer cliff blocked the way up onto the plateau.

Movement at the summit drew his attention. Half a dozen makrasha were lifting Antigonus’ stretcher from the edge of the plateau and placing it atop the cage that held the bear.

Harafin also noticed the movement. He raised one hand and a bolt of silvery magic leaped from his palm up the slope toward Tanathos. It struck an invisible barrier and glanced away.

Harafin sagged wearily against the rock, and Leander moved to support him.

“This doesn’t look good,” Jerrik said.

“Is he doing what I think he’s doing?” Kevlin asked.

Leander nodded gravely.

“I need your strength,” Harafin said to Leander.

Leander grimaced. “You are welcome to what little remains.” Under the blood and gore still coating his face, he looked tired and old. He closed his eyes and his hand, already supporting Harafin, began to glow with white light.

Harafin stood taller under the influx of that new strength. His blue eyes sparked with fresh light and he took a deep breath.

Tanathos appeared beside the cage above them, hands raised high.

“Do something,” Kevlin begged, his heart pounding with anxiety. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t tear his eyes from Antigonus’ prone form.

We’re so close. We can’t lose him now.

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Harafin mouthed a word Kevlin didn’t understand, but it sent a shiver through him, and he took a step back. Light flared from Harafin’s hands.

A royal-blue nimbus formed around Tanathos, swirling in the air. It collided with an invisible shield protecting Tanathos, Antigonus, and the group of makrasha. The light flowed around the shield as if seeking an opening.

Kevlin’s heart fell. Even he, unschooled in the ways of magic, had managed to deflect tremendous amounts of energy with a shield.

“Hit him from underneath,” Drystan suggested.

Harafin grunted. “He’s standing on solid rock.”

The light flared, and the shield began to shrink around Tanathos.

Kevlin held his breath. Harafin was doing it!

Leander collapsed. His skin was pale and his breathing shallow. Then even Harafin staggered and dropped to one knee.

As the blue light faded away, a distant shout of victory sounded from the plateau. A dark cloud descended over one of the makrasha, then another. . .and then a third.

“No,” Kevlin shouted. “Stop this!”

In his soul sounded a single drumbeat, and he heard the echo of soft laughter.

Harafin, panting, face covered in sweat, met Kevlin’s gaze, and shook his head. “I have nothing left with which to fight.”

Amber light flashed bright around Antigonus. The bear huddling in its cage roared as if in pain. The light intensified until Kevlin had to look away.

Antigonus screamed.

The sound echoed off the mountain and grew into a throat-wrenching shriek. Kevlin dropped to his knees and banged his fists against the uncaring ground. For once, he wished he were actinopathic. Anything to stop it.

He dredged his body for any vestige of magic he could summon or lend to Harafin, but found nothing. He yanked the amulet from under his shirt and clenched it until the edges bit into the palm of his hand, as if he could will it to capture magic for him.

It did nothing. He should have known. Magic was a curse. Kevlin threw back his head and shouted, a howl of animal rage until his throat burned with pain.

It didn’t help much.

Atop the cliff, the screaming stopped.

Harafin whispered, “It is done.”

The brilliant light around Tanathos dissipated, revealing a ten-foot monster where Antigonus and the caged bear had been. Covered in white fur, it stood on massively powerful limbs. Raising its heavy maw to the sky, it roared a deep ringing challenge.

“No,” Kevlin whispered. He stared at the monster that had been Antigonus, and wanted to punch something.

I failed.

After everything he’d done, he’d failed. Again.

He watched in impotent rage as Tanathos turned and headed for the shattered keep, the new-formed halimaw lumbering in his wake.