Gu’urs ran his thick gray tongue along the edge of his stained teeth and growled. “Hi’et or not, I’ll bring your head back to the Crown on an iron spike.”
“See, that’s just a waste of everyone’s time.” Maleshi stepped forward and pointed at the stacks of crates. “I want this explained. Go.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Gu’urs’ empty hand flared with a crackling spell of gray and red light.
“This is the only warning you get,” the Nightstalker spat. “Don’t waste it.”
The terrified magicals watching their commander threaten the greatest O’gúl general to lift a finger for the Crown glanced nervously at the spell in Gu’urs’ huge hand. A ripple of tense, uncomfortable foot-shifting passed around the clearing.
A low chuckle rose in the raug’s throat. The next second, he hurled the crackling mass of gray and red energy at the Nightstalker intruder.
Silver light exploded in the clearing before the spell left the commander’s hand. Maleshi accelerated to Nightstalker speed, growling with her fists clenched at her sides as she stepped around the hurtling ball of slow-motion magic. “It’s always the tough lessons, isn’t it? Put all the hard work on me. Sure.”
She reared back and swung a fist into the underside of the raug’s jaw, then slipped back into normal time to watch him fly.
Gu’urs roared. The crackling silver light streaking across his chin and jaw and down the outside of his throat turned that roar into a shriek. The huge gray and red magical slid across the ground when he landed. Thin streams of smoke rose from his gray flesh.
At the tree line, Cheyenne blinked. “Jesus.”
Corian shook his head. “Just Maleshi.”
The Nightstalker ex-general stomped across the flattened grass toward the raug commander and only stopped when she was almost on top of him. She studied the sharp black jacket with the Crown’s military sigil over one shoulder and clicked her tongue. “New getup. I see her style hasn’t improved any.”
A strangled croak rose from the fallen raug as he struggled to push himself up off the ground. He only managed to sit up, blinking heavily and swaying a little. Spit flew from his obscenely swollen lower lip.
“You’re dead.”
“So you’ve told me.” Maleshi gave him that grimacing tight-lipped smile again and pointed at another stack of metal crates. “Now tell me what she’s ordered you to smuggle Earthside and why, and I’ll make sure you don’t end up in a hole in the ground. I promise it’ll be much harder for you to come back from the dead than it was for me.”
“Traitor!” The cry rose from within a group of terror-stricken skaxen and wide-eyed goblins as a streak of orange flame hurtled across the clearing.
Maleshi hissed, stepping deftly out of the line of fire. She dropped into a crouch and sneered at the battered Gu’urs. “You need a better handle on your peons, Commander. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Another brilliant flash of silver light exploded around the Nightstalker woman, then she disappeared.
Screams rang out one after the other, silver light flashing everywhere at once while the Crown’s soldiers struggled to comprehend what was happening. Spells and shouted commands flew in all directions, most of the magic reaching the source of silver light seconds after the speeding Nightstalker had moved on. Bodies flew or dropped with no apparent rhyme or reason. Two ogres rushed to Gu’urs’ side to help their commander to his feet while General Hi’et wrought havoc on their operation.
Cheyenne ripped the pendant off her neck and shifted into her drow form. “We gotta get in there—”
“Wait.” Corian grabbed her arm, and the halfling turned to glance down at his fingers clamped around her bicep. She didn’t have to say she could break those fingers in an instant if she wanted to. The Nightstalker released her and nodded toward the chaos in the clearing. “Just wait.”
After he said it, she still took a step forward toward the fray. Persh’al, Byrd, and Lumil followed suit, each of them summoning magical attacks to step in if needed.
Two orcs worked at the opposite side of the clearing to pry open one of the crates with red handles. As spells flew, crackling against the black pillars of the portal ridge and throwing up sprays of grass and dirt every few seconds, Maleshi’s flashing silver light was one step ahead of everyone.
When the orcs straightened from hunching over the open crate, one of them hiked a massive tube of black metal up onto his shoulder, steadied by his fellow orc.
Cheyenne clenched her fists. “That’s a fell launcher.”
“No, it’s not.” Corian took off running into the fight, followed by the other three O’gúleesh. The halfling had no choice but to join them.
One orc slammed a charge into the back end of the black weapon on his fellow orc’s shoulder and shouted something unintelligible. The launcher exploded in a flash of red light and thick gray smoke, almost knocking the orc backward into another stack of crates.
A high-pitched whine filled the air as the projectile zipped around the clearing, zoning in on the disappearing, reappearing Maleshi Hi’et in her element.
“Tracker!” Corian shouted.
Maleshi knocked aside two skaxen flying toward her with claws outstretched, then disappeared again. The launched tracker zipped and turned, following her trail of silver light until it finally hit home.
The Nightstalker woman let out a piercing scream as electric red energy shivered up and down her body, rendering her immobile. Corian darted into enhanced speed and made it toward the orcs who’d shot the damn thing before they had a chance to reload. Silver claws flashed in the sunlight and the orcs clutched at their throats and dropped, then the Nightstalker disappeared again.
“Bring her down!” the raug commander bellowed.
The ogre on his left saw Lumil coming for him and had enough time to lift a forearm against her first punch. The goblin sent the fist swirling with magical light
