Ceren fainted, toppling backward, and Kevlin barely caught her.

“Let me go, blockhead,” she hissed, her lips barely moving as she sagged against him. “You’ll ruin my fall.”

Kevlin stared, mouth agape.

“Let go,” she insisted.

He dropped her.

Ceren crumpled to the ground, as loose as a ragdoll. She lay limp on the floor next to Antigonus, but then one hand snaked out to shake the sleeping sentinel.

Kevlin forced himself to look away, not wanting to draw attention to what she was doing. He noted that although the mercenaries pulled away from the makrasha, they didn’t attack or run.

Makrasha were the shock troops of Grakonian armies. Their size, brute strength, and monstrous appearance were legendary. Kevlin stared at one of them in fearful fascination.

Built like a giant, its head looked wrong. Shorter and much wider than a man’s, it sat on a short, powerful neck covered sparsely by bristly hairs that poked from its gray, leathery skin. The creature’s mouth cut across that wide, flat head and was filled with sharp teeth and a pair of long fangs.

Two narrow slits formed its nose, and nothing could be seen of its ears. Three large, dark green eyes, spaced evenly across the creature’s wide forehead, stared flatly across the common room. With no lids or whites, they resembled the eyes of some giant insect.

A second set of arms, trisegmented like a spider’s, sprouted from its torso. Known as hengaruk, they were long and thin, but supposedly very strong, and tipped with three stubby fingers capped with hooked claws. In each hengaruk, the makrasha carried small crossbows that they pointed indiscriminately at everyone in the room.

The creature was disgusting.

Rhea sidled slowly away from both the makrasha and the shadeleech, her face frozen in a grimace. Maybe the shadeleech wasn’t her master, the mysterious Masego. It didn’t matter, though. Kevlin would be dead soon, either way.

All of the newcomers were soaking wet.

The fact seemed important, somehow. Puddles of water spread out from beneath the newcomers, and water dripped off their clothing. Kevlin frowned, grasping for an idea that flitted just out of reach. The mercenaries were soaked too, and water pooled across the inn’s tightly fitted floor.

Rhea caught sight of Kevlin, snarled with rage, and hurled an ugly red bolt of magic at him. The crimson bolt of death leaped across the room to destroy him.

He lacked time to dodge, and he was ashamed that his final thought wasn't a scream of defiance, but relief that he'd get to die quick, and not linger at the hands of the shadeleech.

The magic bolt slammed into his chest, but instead of splattering him across the room, it flared, then disappeared like her magic had done the previous times she’d tried to kill him.

For a raging, traitorous, sentinel, she had a lot of performance issues. For once, Kevlin didn’t mind that magic didn’t make sense.

Rhea shrieked in rage. Another drop of water slipped from her outstretched arm and splashed into the puddle at her feet.

In that second, the beginning of a desperate plan formed in Kevlin’s mind. It was crazy, but he had no other ideas. So he let his mind loose on it like a hound after a rabbit.

And he stepped to one side, just in case lightning decided to strike him twice.

Dhanjal crossed his scimitars in front of his chest and retreated a step from Terach. Terach backed away and leaned his hands on his knees, panting. As spent as Dhanjal seemed, Terach was no better off. He hadn’t slept since that dawn battle in the clearing, and the heavy fighting was taking a visible toll.

Dhanjal glared at Rhea. “You will not insult my god again. The dance must be honored.”

Rhea opened her mouth to reply, but the shadeleech raised a hand and she cringed.

“Hurry then,” the shadeleech said in a low, menacing voice. “We will wait, but not for long.”

“Son of EnKur, I fear you not.” Dhanjal turned to the shadeleech. “Servants of the burning chains seek Savas’ favor, as do all who yearn for power. Do not interfere with me.”

The shadeleech waved a dismissive hand, but made no other move.

During the exchange, Terach seemed to realize who the newcomers were for the first time. His face paled and he glanced at Kevlin, as if to confirm he wasn’t going crazy.

Kevlin smiled and winked. They might be crazy, but they weren’t dead yet. Terach raised a questioning eyebrow, and Kevlin held up a single finger. Terach nodded and straightened.

Dhanjal raised his scimitars, and the two launched themselves back into the fight.

Ceren pulled herself to a sitting position. Antigonus still hadn’t stirred. “I can’t wake him up,” she whispered.

“It’s all right,” Kevlin said. “Slide my pack over here.”

Ceren snaked a hand onto his pack and dragged it across her lap, shielding it from view of both the shadeleech and Rhea. Kevlin slipped a hand inside, rummaging around until he found the item he sought. He breathed a sigh of relief and extracted it.

Kevlin stood, keeping his hand by his side, and watched the fight. Within seconds, Terach managed to spare a glance in his direction, and he nodded. Terach worked his way around Dhanjal until his back was to Kevlin. Under Dhanjal’s next heavy blow, Terach stumbled all the way back to Kevlin.

“You carry Antigonus,” Kevlin whispered to Terach. “I’ll lead the way.”

Not waiting for a response, he turned to face the shadeleech and shouted, “Take your pets and go, before I'm forced to kill you!”

The shadeleech sneered, but Kevlin moved before the servant of darkness could rip out his soul, or worse. He threw the leather ball concealed in his hand.

His last container of photophor.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

As ball sailed across the common room, the sentinel pointed a finger at it. A bolt of pure darkness leapt from his hand and intercepted it in the center of the room.

It exploded.

Kevlin was already charging for the door leading to the study. Stinging particles pelted him in the back as the photophor crystals blasted across the room and covered everyone with a thin layer of powder. The three mercenaries in the doorway cursed and wiped at their eyes.

The momentary distraction was all Kevlin needed. He snapped his left arm down, twisting his wrist, and the hidden stiletto popped into his hand. He threw it at the first mercenary from ten feet away, catching the man in one eye.

He leaped Haisyl’s prone form. Two quick slashes of his sword dispatched the other mercenaries. With the way clear, he spun back to the common room. Ceren was right behind him, carrying several of the bags. Terach staggered after her, awkwardly bearing Antigonus, stretcher and all. Kevlin met Haisyl’s eyes and she opened her mouth in a silent plea.

He could do nothing for her.

Everyone else in the room was still wiping their eyes clear of photophor dust. The shadeleech locked Kevlin in his terrifying gaze and smiled, as if amused by the attempt to flee. The servant of darkness raised a hand to cast a spell.

He burst into flame.

The photophor reacted to the wet clothing, skin, and hair of the intruders, and ignited. White fire raced over their bodies and burned along the puddles on the floor.

Pandemonium broke out.

Mercenaries and makrasha howled and thrashed. Several of the gigantic beasts fired their crossbows, and at least one mercenary was hit. His scream added to the tumult.

It actually worked!

Kevlin wanted to whoop with relief and exultation, but the photophor was spread so thin that it wouldn’t last long. He bolted down the short hallway to the study.

Terach deposited Antigonus on the floor, and Ceren slammed the door closed. He wedged a ladder-back chair under the latch. Kevlin helped him maneuver a couple of the heavy, padded chairs against the door. The makeshift barricade wouldn’t hold for long, but they only needed a few seconds.

“Well done,” Terach said.

“We’re not out of here yet,” Kevlin reminded him.

The door shuddered under a heavy blow, and both of them leaped to brace it. “Ceren,” Kevlin yelled. “The window.”

She raced to the window and spent a few seconds struggling to twist open the lock to raise the window and access the outer shutter, but it remained stuck.

More blows slammed into the door till the latch splintered. The door slid open a fraction of an inch.

“Hurry!” Kevlin shouted.

Ceren ran to the table, grabbed a chair, and hurled it at the window. It shattered the glass but splintered against the shutter. She caught up a broken table leg, cleared the glass away and began wrestling with the catch to the shutter.

The pounding on the door intensified, then the tip of a sword split the wood right next to Kevlin’s head.

They were out of time.

“Go!” Terach shouted. “Help her.”

Kevlin raced to the window, drew his dagger, and slammed the hilt against the latch. It snapped free, and he pushed the shutter wide, then turned back to the room. Terach left the door and bent to lift Antigonus.

Before Kevlin could move to help, the door burst open. Dhanjal loomed in the doorway, flanked by half a dozen mercenaries.

The Blade Stalwart threw one of his scimitars.

It tumbled across the room and slammed into Terach’s back, punching through his armor and sinking deep into his torso. The blow drove Terach forward onto his knees, arms outstretched, eyes widening with shock.

Blood spewed from his mouth, and he locked eyes with Kevlin. His mouth worked as if he were trying to speak. Then the light faded from his eyes and, a single heartbeat later, his body became an empty, lifeless husk.

Kevlin stared in mute horror. He’d witnessed many comrades die in battle, but that split second when life departed always shook him.

In the common room, he’d accepted the fact that they were probably going to die, but hope had pushed that certainty aside when they reached the study. They had been so close to escaping! The open window and concealing darkness mocked him with promised safety.

“No!” Ceren screamed, echoing the cry ringing in Kevlin’s mind. She tried to run past, but he caught her shoulder and pulled her to a stop.

Mercenaries boiled into the room around Dhanjal.

“Let me go,” Ceren hissed, pushing Kevlin's arm aside and reaching for her sword.

Terach began to burn. The photophor reacted with his blood, and white flames licked across his torso and face.

Kevlin choked down the bile that rose in his throat at the sight. He grabbed Ceren by her sword belt and collar and threw her out the window. Her scream of protest was lost as she tumbled into the darkness.

Sparing one last glance at Terach’s burning body still sagging on his knees above Antigonus’ prone form, Kevlin dove headfirst out the window after her. He rolled right into Ceren who was already struggling to stand. The two of them collapsed in the mud in a tangle of arms and legs.

Kevlin surged to his feet. Ignoring Ceren's complaints, he spun back to the window, wiping rain out of his eyes just as a mercenary appeared in the window, peering into the night. Kevlin drew a long throwing dagger from its hidden sheath under his collar and threw it. It took the mercenary in the throat.

Ceren leaped to her feet, and Kevlin grabbed hold of her.

They both burst into flame.

Photophor.

Ceren yelped and tried to run, but Kevlin tackled her and hissed, “Roll. The mud will put out the fire.”

For once, Ceren obeyed and the two of them wallowed around like pigs until they had covered themselves with a thick layer of cold mud. The flames were doused as clinging muck smothered the photophor dust.

By the time they pulled themselves back to their feet, two mercenaries were clambering out the window with swords drawn. Others emerged from a nearby door, carrying a torch. Kevlin grabbed Ceren’s elbow and pulled her toward the forest. The rainy darkness made it impossible to see more than a couple of feet, and it cloaked their movements. The mercenaries moved cautiously around the near side of the inn. Two of them caught fire as vestiges of photophor ignited under the rain, and they hopped around, cursing and beating at the flames.

Kevlin didn’t slow until they slipped through the first screen of trees and crouched down behind some thick brush. The darkness enveloped them, blocking out all light. When Ceren shook her arm free of his grasp, he feared she would race back to the inn and get herself killed, but she only huddled next to him, crying.

With the immediate danger gone, the shock of what had just happened crashed in on him too. His stomach lurched and the bitter taste of failure clung like vomit to his mouth.

He really hated that feeling.

Terach was dead. Despite the captain’s willingness to sacrifice himself to enable their escape, his death had been anything but noble. Dhanjal had struck him down from behind like a coward. After all his high-sounding words, Dhanjal had proven himself nothing but a murderer.

Kevlin had seen too many comrades die too young. He focused on anger at Dhanjal to cover the insidious sense of guilt that threatened to distract him. It wasn’t easy. This wasn’t the first time he had failed in a big way, but this time the consequences might prove irreversible.

Antigonus was dead. If Rhea hadn’t already finished him, the shadeleech would have consumed his soul by now.

That thought was nothing short of depressing. The old man had depended on them, and they’d left him to die. Had they tried to get to Antigonus, they’d have died too, but that stark reality did little to help.

Kevlin tipped his head back, letting the downpour course down his face. The water washed away the muddy photophor powder and left his skin clean, but did nothing to ease the heavy thoughts clinging to his mind.

The enemy had Tia Khoa. The memory of that rune-covered bag around Antigonus’ neck burned in his mind. Now a shadeleech had it.

About all he knew about magic was to avoid it. He didn’t even know exactly what Tia Khoa was. The powerful talisman and its bearer were key to the empire’s defenses against the Sigrun. That defense was now gone. What would prevent the enemy from sweeping across the empire with their armies, destroying the Six Kingdoms?

Not good.

Kevlin scratched the three-day stubble on his chin as he considered the mess they were in. He’d known it was a mistake to get involved with sentinels, but somehow here he was. He’d sworn an oath to see Antigonus to safety, but he’d failed.

Moping over the situation wouldn’t help, so Kevlin leaned closer to Ceren and asked, “Are you injured?”

She didn’t answer for a minute, but finally murmured between sobs, “He’s dead.”

Kevlin wrapped an awkward arm around her shoulders. At first she remained rigid in the crook of his arm, but after a moment she fell against him and buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed like her heart had broken.

It probably had.

It was obvious she’d cared for Terach, and took her responsibilities as one of Antigonus’ companions very seriously. Kevlin was on intimate terms with both the thrills of victory and the bitter misery of failure, so he could cope.

He doubted she’d ever faced life-and-death situations like this before. The first time was always rough. He said nothing but silently held her as they knelt together in the mud and the rain, surrounded by impenetrable darkness.