Cheyenne moved to the right and stopped behind another tree at the edge of the clearing to take a closer look. Most of the black, glinting carapaces from the swarm of beetle-things had been cleared aside, though some parts still lay scattered here and there. A thin tentacle remained where Corian had severed it at the edge of the portal ridge and the jutting fists of black stone. The spires Cheyenne had pulled down still lay over the widest crevasse within the portal ridge, but it seemed the focus of the portal had moved farther down, to where the destruction hadn’t touched. The high wall of dark, shimmering light was still there too.
“Little more than a dozen, huh?” Mattie whispered.
“I can’t hear everything,” the halfling whispered back.
At least three dozen magicals milled around the clearing, handling huge crates of black metal. Most of the crates had been arranged into stacks of three or four, differentiated only by the color of their handles—red, white, or silver. All of them had the bull’s-head shape stamped on the side in white paint.
Another soft pop filled the clearing, and a huge, roaring ogre staggered out from between the black stone pillars. He waved his arms in front of him, batting at something around his face that wasn’t there.
“Got another one,” someone shouted.
“Hey, that’s Kilresh!”
A hulking magical wearing a black military jacket with a silver bull’s head on the back pointed at the disoriented ogre and barked, “Someone better get that ogre in line before he smashes any more supplies.”
Cheyenne’s eyes grew wide when she saw the gray hand streaked with red extending from the sleeve of the military jacket. The pointed finger ended in a long red claw. Great. They have a raug giving orders.
She caught the almost inaudible crunch of dry leaves beside her just before Corian stopped between Mattie and the halfling without bumping into either of them. “Maybe we didn’t need you after all, general.”
Mattie let out a soft hiss. “The only thing this proves is that someone’s taking advantage of the situation.”
“Obviously. And the Crown’s behind this one.”
“Behind the supply shipments and the new legion of peons, yeah. I came here to find out who’s behind the new portal.”
“Maleshi, wait!”
There was a short scuffle and kicked up leaves before one of the Nightstalkers hissed.
“Get your hand off me,” Mattie whispered fiercely. Then she stepped out into the clearing. The air wavered around her figure, and then Maleshi Hi’et the Nightstalker stormed across the open grass toward the unsuspecting magicals sent across the Border by the Crown.
Corian appeared right beside Cheyenne, his fingers working quickly to drop her invisibility charm as Persh’al and the goblins did the same with theirs.
Byrd leaned forward to catch the Nightstalker man’s gaze. “What the hell’s she doing?”
“Whatever she wants, apparently.” Corian grimaced, his feline nose twitching. “Like she always does.”
“Aren’t you gonna stop her?”
“I’m partial to keeping my head on my shoulders, thanks.”
Maleshi’s long black hair fluttered in the breeze, the pointed tips of her tufted feline ears the only giveaway that she moved toward the group of O’gúleesh without her human illusion. Cheyenne leaned toward Corian. “Why aren’t we going out there with her?”
“Because she wants to do this on her own.”
“So, we’re just here if she needs backup, huh?”
“She won’t.”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
“You know,” Maleshi called to the scattered magicals in black uniforms, “I’m a little insulted that no one invited me to the party.”
A troll with a huge gap where his front teeth should have been looked up from the stack of crates on this side of the clearing. “By the fucking Crown,” he muttered, his eyes wide when he saw the black-haired Nightstalker headed for him.
“Yeah, I figured she’s to blame for this.”
“Hey. Hey!” The troll nearly fell on his face scrambling away from the stacked crates and the ex-general. “Gu’urs!”
The raug in the black jacket looked over his shoulder and snarled at the scampering troll. “I’m having a fell-damn conversation, soldier. Who told you to take a break?”
“To be fair, that’s probably my fault.” Maleshi spread her arms and cocked her head. “I’m just trying to talk to the magical in charge here.”
The troll stumbled again, unable to look away from the Nightstalker even as he fumbled for the raug’s jacket sleeve. “It’s her. It’s fucking Maleshi—”
Gu’urs snarled and shoved his red-streaked hand into the troll’s face to push him aside. Then the raug turned toward the Nightstalker woman and lifted his chin. “I am.”
“I figured.” Maleshi stopped and glanced around the clearing.
The troll had stumbled around the whole operation, jabbering in a panicked whisper about General Maleshi Hi’et standing right there with them. Whispers of disbelief and fear made their rounds in the clearing, and every magical with the Crown’s bull-head seal stopped what they were doing to watch the encounter with their commanding officer.
The Nightstalker cocked her head. “Sounds like I shouldn’t bother introducing myself. But your face isn’t pulling up a name, soldier.”
Gu’urs took a step forward, jerking down the lapel of his officer’s jacket with a sneer. “I didn’t give it. And I don’t plan to.”
“That’s not very diplomatic of you.”
“Who the hell are you, Nightstalker?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Maleshi shot him a small, bitter smile and nodded toward the frozen magicals around the clearing. Those standing closest to their raug commander stepped back. “If I can hear the whispers from here, it’s hard to imagine you haven’t picked up on them.”
The raug looked her up and down in contempt. “Maleshi Hi’et defected centuries ago. I heard she didn’t make it very long after that.”
“Really? The general’s dead, huh? Look at that.” She stuck her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “No invitation to the party, and I still haven’t heard about my death. These lines of communication have some serious flaws in them, don’t you think?”
“I’m done listening to your shit, nilsch úcat—”
“And I’m done explaining myself, raug!” The Nightstalker’s voice rang across the clearing with terrifying
