Persh’al’s green whip slashed at the loyalist trolls trying to flee the clearing. He snagged first one and then the other by the ankles, dragging them back across the ground before landing a set of knockout punches.
Byrd’s orange flames seared loyalist after loyalist, and Cheyenne hit the goblin he’d missed with a crackling sphere of black and purple energy. The goblin went down with a cry, Byrd turned to shoot the halfling a grateful nod, then Cheyenne darted toward Mattie.
The Nightstalker had recovered from the electric attack and spun to shoot a massive bolt of silver lightning at the ogre thundering toward her. It struck him in the shoulder and rocked him backward, but he continued toward her.
A slavering skaxen leaped onto the stack of crates behind her, his boots hitting it with a metallic clang. As he kicked off from his perch, claws outstretched toward Maleshi Hi’et’s neck, Cheyenne darted into drow speed and unleashed her whipping black tendrils. They coiled around the suspended skaxen’s neck and chest before she slammed him into the stack of crates.
After the top crate toppled, it hung there in slow motion, and Maleshi/Mattie turned toward the drow halfling with a feral grin. “Look who’s gettin’ the hang of things?”
Cheyenne retracted her lashing tendrils and studied her former professor’s feline face, alight with battle fury. “You okay?”
“I appreciate the check-in, Cheyenne.” Mattie stepped toward the frozen ogre and whipped her hand out by her side. Flashing silver claws like thin steel blades shot from her fingertips, and she grabbed the ogre by the front of his black uniform shirt. “But I got this. Just another fight on the playground.”
She jerked the ogre toward her and sent those vicious, four-inch claws slicing into his side below his thick ribs. Then she released him and turned back toward the halfling. “Fun, right?”
Cheyenne stared at the ogre, who hadn’t yet realized what had happened to him. “I don’t even wanna know what kinda playground you grew up on.”
“A lot rougher than this, I’ll tell you that much.” The Nightstalker stormed across the grass toward the raug commander, his swollen jaw frozen mid-shout.
Corian joined them and headed for Maleshi, jerking his chin at her. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”
“Oh, is that what you do? Give warnings?”
“You know what I mean.”
Maleshi pointed at the raug. “I know we’re about to get some answers. You ready for this?”
Corian gave her an exasperated glare, and the ex-general laughed.
Then she turned back toward Cheyenne. “We got this, kid. Feel free to step on out of this little bubble. It’ll go a lot faster that way, yeah?”
“What will?” The halfling glanced at the Nightstalkers, one with light-brown fur, the other pitch-black and gray. Their glowing eyes were startlingly similar.
“Just a little trick I learned in the Upper Aegúrs. Magical zip-ties and whatnot. And yes, before you ask, it requires an extra spell we don’t have the time to teach you right now.” Maleshi shot Cheyenne a pert smile and nodded once.
And that’s me being dismissed.
“Sure.” The halfling nodded and slipped out of drow speed. The clearing flashed every few seconds with blazing silver light, and Cheyenne turned slowly to watch the results in real-time. “Holy shit.”
Chapter Eighty
In under two minutes, Corian and Maleshi had made the rounds of every single O’gúl loyalist in the clearing. When the Nightstalkers fell back into real-time, Maleshi stuck her hands on her hips and surveyed their work. “Four centuries of Earthside hiatus, and I still got it.”
Corian eyed her sideways and snorted.
Persh’al slapped a hand to his bald blue head and smacked his lips. “Seeing this never gets old.”
He stepped toward the Nightstalkers, joined by Byrd and Lumil. The goblins stared at the Crown’s goons, who were sitting or lying in various positions around the clearing, hands bound behind their backs by shimmering magical light.
“Death to traitors!” A troll leaning against a stack of crates beside the part of the portal ridge Cheyenne had destroyed sneered and leaned forward. He spat a fat glob of spit and dark blood toward the Nightstalkers half a dozen yards away.
Lumil sent a swift kick into his side as she passed. “Next time it’s your face, asshole. Shut it.”
When the group of rogue magicals gathered in the center of the clearing, Maleshi nodded at the raug commander lying on his side, his thick gray wrists also bound behind his back. “Don’t worry, Commander. I still have respect for the old laws. We’ll start with you in a bit. Excuse me.”
Gu’urs grunted and craned his neck to glare at the Nightstalker as she stepped past him toward the portal ridge. Taking a deep breath, Maleshi scanned the spires of black stone jutting twenty feet or taller. She leaned away to follow the long stretch of the ridge moving out to the west, then nodded. “I’ve still got it.”
Corian stepped forward. “I can—”
“No. Thank you.” The ex-general didn’t turn around to address him before she raised both hands and extended them toward the jutting ridge. “This won’t take long.”
Cheyenne glanced at Corian and found his jaw working beneath the tufts of brown hair fluttering at the sides of his face. Those silver eyes didn’t leave Maleshi.
A soft whisper of an O’gúleesh incantation fluttered from the Nightstalker woman’s lips. She closed her eyes and reached out for the energy she hadn’t felt in centuries. Not until it started looking for me several weeks ago. And now I know why.
Pale, opalescent light tinged with faded pink emerged from her hands. It wavered in front of her, then erupted toward the portal ridge and the wall of dark light. A huge crack split the air, echoing madly against the metal crates. Then the dark wall of the new Border portal took on the same pinkish light.
Maleshi let out a long breath, studied her handiwork, and nodded. “There’s our proof.”
Cheyenne studied the glimmering wall. “What was that?”
The ex-general turned and dusted off her hands. “Just closed the portal for now.”
“You
